The Return to the Corporate Sector
by Ivylore
Summary: Shortly after the Battle of Endor, Han is summoned back to the Corporate Sector to help an old friend. This time, it's not his past that has come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

* * *

It was one standard month after the Battle of Endor.

The newly named Alliance of Free Planets basked in the afterglow of its triumph against the tyrannical Empire. Two-hundred worlds had already sworn allegiance to the newly named galactic assembly and hundreds more had expressed an interest in sending their delegates to meet with Alliance command in the coming weeks. The forest moon had hastily become the fledgling government's interim capital, with foreign dignitaries and world leaders arriving daily. Grey prefab buildings mushroomed seemingly overnight wherever the forest offered a few meters of space and even where it didn't. Flattened fronds and shrubbery perished beneath the heavy landing gear of space transports.

By this time, the Alliance had captured all surviving scattered Imperial personnel and shipped them off-planet for upcoming war trials. The ground crews were completing a thorough search and excavation of the Empires former bunkers - those that were standing, those that were partially damaged and even those that were nothing more than carbon-scored ruins. The best Alliance slicers were eagerly sifting through damaged console units and shattered datafiles for every bit of decryptable information. A great deal of information about the Empire's machinations across the galaxy remained to be retrieved.

It was during such a search of the heavily battered South bunker that the mighty Wookiee Chewbacca, (hero of the Battle of Yavin and native of Kashyyyk), became a hero yet again. When the forward ceiling began to cave in, the Wookiee took the brunt of the beams across his back. Just as he had attempted to do so many years ago in the first _Death Stars_ trash compactor, he used his massive strength to prevent the walls from collapsing and saved the lives of three men. He was still bracing broken beams and supports across his shoulders when an adjoining wall caved in and buried him.

Fortunately, although the Wookiees injuries were critical, they were not life threatening.

The famous Corellian starpilot, Han Solo, wasn't on duty when the accident occurred, but by the time his companion had been dug out and transported to the moons new med-center, he'd been alerted and was as anxious as a mother nuna, pacing the tiny trauma center lengthwise in only three steps.

"Always the big hero", he sighed. The Wookiee was lying on the prep table with an array of intravenous lines running squid-like into his limbs. They vanished beneath the thick shaggy fur. "Couldn't you just have _run_ for once?"

Chewbacca whuffed softly, trying to lift his neck and see what the Em-Dee droid and medic was doing, but the Corellian nudged his shoulder down all too easily. The painkillers and sedatives were beginning to kick in.

"No, don't look down at your legs." Han was trying not to look himself. The Em-Dee was in the process of shaving the long reddish-brown fur and whoever was present when the naturally hirsute patient woke up bare legged from the knees down was in for it. The pilot was actually shocked, seeing for the first time in all these years, just how muscular the Wookiees calves were. His species was big boned too, (which Han would have rather learned from holos or xeniobiology texts than up close). "They're saying you'll be fine, that the breaks were clean. You're just gonna be in and out of the tank for a few days and then on bed rest for a week or two."

Chewie _arghed_ low in his throat, complaining that his knees were cold and felt strange.

Han didn't have the heart to tell him. He lied. He claimed it was the anesthetic and refrained from telling him that his legs were newly naked. Then the Wookiee made him promise to store his beloved bowcaster somewhere safe before dropping off into obliviane-land.

"Finally," the white clad medic sighed. "Em-Dee, after we transfer him to the bacta tank, make a note in your archives: It's double the rate of zenethine to knock out a grown Wookiee even with weight differential factored in. And make sure you log that in the central medical archives when were done here."

"I could have told you that," the Corellian returned. "Why didn't you just ask?"

The medic nodded. "Pardon me, General."

Worry flickered across the man's weathered features. "He will be okay, right?"

"As good as new in a few weeks. Wookiee physiology, from what I've studied of it, is capable of self-regeneration that surpasses humans two fold."

Han continued to regard the slumbering pile of fur fondly. "I could have told you that part too."

"General, I assure you we'll take good care of him."

"You're gonna do great, you big fuzzy oaf. Did you hear what he said?" Han patted his friend on the head affectionately.

"General Solo?"

"What?"

"You're needed in the command center."

It was neither the voice of the medic nor the Em-Dee droid. "I'm busy," he barked. "Can't you see that?"

"I'm sorry Sir, but we have an extremely urgent message from somewhere in the Corporate Sector."


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 1**

Leia stamped a worn boot-heel down harder against the deckplates. "_No_!"

The inside of the _Millennium Falcon's_ common area had never produced such a magnificent echo. Breaking the news to her wasn't going as exactly as Han had planned it. Although he'd known that she wasn't going to take it well, he hadn't expected to be losing the battle before it even got underway. For the third time in as many minutes he sighed with exasperation and scratched at the back of his neck where his stiff collar rubbed his bare skin. "It'll be two weeks. Three tops."

"Chewie obviously can't go in his condition. Luke isn't in-system. You are not going alone."

"I never said I was going alone." The Corellian cleared his throat, regarding the diminutive Princess as she tried to sort out what tidbit of information it was that she had missed.

"Then who-"

"_Lando_ said he'll go. So see." Han gestured widely. "I won't be alone. Happy?"

"Why would I be happy?" Now there were several blue veins raised on her clenched fists. She looked as though the Ewok Shaman's gold feather would have knocked her flat over and was quite visibly fighting to maintain control of her temper. With a firm shove off the transplanted flight chair that served as extra seating in between the common area and compartment deck, she propelled herself over to him and jabbed a finger violently into his sternum. "_Lando_?"

"Yeah. Lando." As far as Han knew, Lando and Leia had made their peace while he was in carbonite. "What's the problem? You're not still angry at him are you?"

"_That's_ not _it_."

"Okay." Han wasn't sure what _it_ was. Regardless, his pre-planned reasoning wasn't coming to him quickly enough.

"Let me put this into terms with a concision even you can understand." She swallowed tightly and folded her arms over the quilted combat vest. "I don't know what happened to whatever you call your brain while you were in carbon freeze or what sort of side affects you're suffering from now – but don't think for a second that I'm going to let you waltz to the other side of the galaxy without me_._ I just spent the better part of the last six months looking for you. I can't afford to lose you."

Han shook his head. "Sweetheart, you're not gonna lose me-"

Leia's mouth turned down. "For a week. For two. For three."

"I'll be back before you know it."

"That's not what I mean." She tucked a stray section of hair back into her braids untidily, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "It doesn't matter. It's been six months for me and barely a few weeks with you here."

Until this very moment, asking Lando had been simple to justify. Now the first twinges of guilt began rearing their annoying heads. He hadn't imagined she would be this upset - not crying but looking as though she were about to, and not screaming but sounding as though she would start soon. "I'll be back before you know it," he repeated.

"_No_."

Softening his tone and setting a hand on her shoulder, he sought to reason with her. "Princess… _They_ need you. There are a hell of a lot more important things you could be doing than sticking with me while I go sort out an old mess. I won't know 'til I get there what this is all about and I don't want to drag you into anything dangerous."

Sarcasm dripped unbridled in her voice and fire flashed in her eyes. She wriggled free of his grip. "Dangerous? And this war is what… child's play?"

"It's not like that. It's not…" Exasperated, Han leaned up against the back of the recessed booth and rubbed his hands through his hair. What had happened on Bespin had been _his _fault. Jabba had been _his _fault. And he was still having flashes of her voice trembling in those murky after hours of his rescue, when he didn't know how or if they'd hurt her and…

He _couldn't_ think it, didn't know what he would have done.

"Leia, I don't want to worry about you."

"It's a mutual sentiment."

"Then you understand what I mean."

Other women would have noted the ultimatum in his voice, but she was nothing if not defiant, with her chin held high. "I hope you understand what _I _mean. Either this notion of going without me ends here or I'll be up at command headquarters authorizing them to refuse you before either you or Lando can get a hold of a requisition for temporary leave."

"Oh you wouldn't."

"Try me."

Han bit down on the inside pocket of his cheek hard, caught off-guard by his rising emotions and blood pressure. Telling her exactly what he thought of the underhanded threat crossed his mind. The temptation was almost irresistible. "Leia. Of all the damned things-"

"_General Solo_-" The title dropped like a stone on his conscience. "-It's not as if the Alliance can afford to lose _two_ generals right now. Did Lando think of that? Did he even check with Command or did he just say 'sure, no problem?'"

"Well..." He hated to admit he hadn't thought of that, and he doubted anything resembling the concern had crossed Calrissian's mind either.

"I'm certain he'll be thrilled to know that you're inviting him along because he's more expendable than I am."

"Now you wait a second-"

"Explain it to me then so that it makes sense," she demanded hotly, marching back the flight chair and grabbing a datapad from the largest side-pocket of her jacket. "You don't want to worry about me and you'd rather I stay here but you won't worry a nanosecond about Lando."

"That is _not_ what I'm saying," he protested, wondering if he was, just a little bit.

Leia sat down in the booth, activated the datapad and proceeded to stare at it impatiently. "So?"

"So what?" he answered slowly, mulling over his options under the heavy mantle of looming defeat. How bad would it be? So she wanted to go. She was a sharp set of eyes and a resourceful woman. Her instincts were as good as his or Luke's and in all honesty, she'd be more of an asset than anyone else he could think to bring along would. Additionally (and this realization had been rapidly growing since the argument had began), the fastest way to implode their relationship or activate the self-destruct button would be to leave her on Endor. Not so long ago everything she'd known to be true about herself had been thrown to the wastelands, sullied or made shameful. There were new secrets. She was Darth Vader's daughter. The worst thing that could happen to her right now would be for her most crucial relationship to bottom out on her. They'd only been lovers for a few weeks and every minute alone was hard earned and carefully planned. Certainly she'd come here tonight expecting something other than a fight, other than his goodbye.

"What are you going to do?"

Stepping nearer to her, he snatched her empty hand and began tracing the inside of her wrist just beneath her chrono with his thumb, wanting to take her in his arms and make everything all better. "Is this the way you usually negotiate, Sweetheart? Playing dirty? Blackmail?"

"When the occasion calls for it." She half-turned away from the datafile on-screen and eyed him sceptically. "On this occasion you're driving me to it."

The screen was only showing a string of com-codes and dates, not, as she'd threatened, an automatic message to Command instructing them to ground his ship until further notice. "I suppose I'd rather have a hell of a shot on my side than against me," he murmured under his breath.

She smiled thinly. "Then it's settled."

"Now put that down."

"I can't. I have work to do if we're leaving tomorrow. I need to review my schedule and make cancellations, go see Admiral-"

He gave her a firm yank. "They'll be busy talking if you're running back and forth from my ship in the middle of the night."

"Let them."

It was a running joke between them. Their relationship was no secret, but Han liked to tease her about the upper echelons of Alliance's glowering disapproval of him. The beauty of it was she didn't care a whit.

"Han I…" She hesitated. "I'm sorry. I…oh, _wait_." Leia hopped up onto the booth, sinking on the fake leather cushions but she was still a good bit taller than him. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that to you. Go over your head, I mean."

"Don't worry about it." Han cocked his head to the side and winked at her. "You're just doing your job, right? It's nothing personal."

"No. It _is_ personal."

"So is this." Han slipped his hand beneath her vest. "But save the apologizing. I'm about to take advantage of you too."

"How?"

"I need something."

Leia tipped her head coyly. "What?"

"Supply and Procurement records for any shipments coming from the Kalinda system, hijacked and legitimate."

"You want me to copy sensitive files for you? Han, I ca-"

"Don't say _can't_. Without them, I'm going to have to spend a week digging through the public records once I get out there and if I find anything pointing back to the Alliance I'm not going to be able to help them without proof. I could really use your help on this."

"I'll see what I can do." Leia arched her back a little and leaned into him finally. "_Where_ in the Corporate Sector are we going?"

"You'll see when you get there."

"I take it that means it's not in the most recently published edition of _The Outer Territories on 100 Credits a Day_. And you _still _haven't told me what this is about."

"How about I promise to debrief you once we're underway?"

She grinned. "Have I mentioned to you how disturbing it is the way you manage to make everything sound like foreplay?"

"Not since before your mission to Zelos," he replied, wondering what he would tell her once they were underway. The truth was their final destination was undecided. That message could have reached him from any planet in the sector with a full size penal facility. There were dozens, half of them on which the _Falcon_ couldn't land on without being picked up by local authority or the _16__th__ Escort Force_. Add to that the small matter of his not being able to show his face on a few worlds and the rest of the explaining he'd have to do once they set underway. There was no point in telling her until he had no choice, and it didn't matter, because suddenly she was kissing him and drawing him closer, running her fingers through his hair. Han pretended the muffled beeping droning on and on was ordinary background noise on his ship. Leia thrust him back and climbed down. "_Stang._"

"Your jacket." Han pointed to padded lump on the flight chair, wondering who the hell would comm them in the middle of the night. Or was it almost morning?

Leia found the irritating technological wonder, taking in a gulp of air to calm herself. "Organa here."

"Your Highness, it's central communications."

Amazingly, Leia managed to sound as though she was at a desk reviewing data and expected frequent interruptions, not as though she'd been on her way to bed with him. "What can I do for you-" She flicked her wrist over and checked her chrono." -At this hour?"

"We're sorry to disturb you. We have Commander Skywalker holding on the hypertransceiver for you."

"Commander Skywalker?"

A pause. "Yes. He says he'll try again tomorrow."

"Can he hold for five minutes?"

The voices at the other end of the comm were muffled, and then, "He doesn't mind holding."

"I'll be there. Out."

Han watched her try to smooth back her hair. "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered.

Leia laughed and slipped her arms inside her jacket and fastened it up to her throat. "We don't have to sleep here. Let's go back to the bunker and then to my quarters."

"Nah."

"_Or_ I'll come back. We'll make them talk." She grinned conspiratorially. "I know how much you get a kick out of it."

Han grinned back at her. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Leia's knees were still quivering when she exited the _Falcon_.

Verdant and lush foliage soaked up the predawn-mist, and she walked along the path carved by their frequent footsteps, between the breaking fog and dewy boughs. It hadn't dropped below freezing overnight, but was near enough to it, and her boots crunched pleasantly. It was surreal and peaceful. It was beautiful.

Endor was truly the last planet one might have expected to be at the center of the war. Environmental scientists had only just arrived and begun studying the effect of the _Death Star's_ fallout. Not a kilometre away from base camp was the beginning of the debris field. The experts dropped phrases like 'long term environmental damage,' and 'negatively affected sustainability,' in their wake wherever they went. A spacecraft the size of a small moon exploding over the moon-planet was potentially a slow ecological holocaust. There were warnings everywhere for personnel to cover up when it rained. They said they would have to wait and see. At times, Leia endeavoured not to ask herself if it was worth it – if it did indeed turn out that they'd destroyed an entire world in the process of destroying the Emperor. It left her with too cold of a chill.

There were only two guards on duty outside the Communications bunker, and they bid her good morning on her way in. Seconds later her brother's angled features over the comm pad both reassured her and inspired a fresh wave of trepidation.

_Brother._

It was all so... _strange_. Every time she looked at him, it felt right, but there was still a bit of jolt, a bit of a 'how did this come to be?' Feeling as though she were accountable to him, that their relationship gave him a right to express his concerns, was brand new to her, at once comforting and at the same time making her uneasy. He would not approve of her accompanying Han to the Corporate Sector, though he might refrain from saying it.

Leia started off on a bright note, winking at him. "Mission accomplished out in your parts Commander?"

Luke's eyes sparkled with flecks of sliver-blue. "Am I allowed to admit that to you?"

They'd been successful then. "My lips will stay sealed until the briefing later today when they make the announcement. I'll pretend it's fresh news."

"Never trust a politician," he chuckled. "That's what Wedge keeps telling me. Oh, and I'm sorry to drag you up so early. I forgot about the time difference... although..." The tow-haired Jedi leaned out of sight momentarily, popping back into view a few seconds later. "I thought I dropped my chrono but I must have lost it. I don't even know what time it is _here_."

_Chewie_, Leia remembered suddenly, blurting out news of the accident and updating him on his condition. Naturally, Luke was greatly relieved to hear that although the Wookiee wouldn't be out of bed for a few weeks, he was expected to be as good as new. He sent his best speedy recovery wishes, saying he'd be back to chip in with the med-center entertainment soon enough. The comment reminded Leia that there was more she needed to tell him.

The image was fuzzy but Luke's baffled expression was crystal clear. "The Corporate Sector? Is that what I just heard you say?"

"That's it."

"This isn't for the Alliance is it?"

Ineffably, Leia felt her elbows crossing her chest and staking out a pre-emptive defensive posture. "No."

"Then what is it for?"

"It's…" _Well I don't have the foggiest_… "It's… an old friend is in trouble."

"An old friend of Han's." Luke sighed knowingly.

"_Please_ don't sound like that."

"Not that I have anything against Lando," he proclaimed. "But his old friends have a habit of …"

"If you're trying to find a tactful way to say, 'getting us in trouble,' I hear you. That's exactly why I need to go."

Privately, Han's first choice of a replacement co-pilot galled her to no end. Why in the universe, with no one else available save herself or Lando Calrissian to accompany him to the Corporate Sector, would he ask _Lando _and not her? The man who'd betrayed him not six months ago, betrayed all of them, and handed them over to Vader. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that she'd forgiven Lando and that he'd since redeemed himself. The Dark Lord had left Cloud City's Administrator little choice and had _she _been in the same situation...

_No!_

In the same situation (and she'd dreamed of it often) there were a hundred other routes she might have taken. She might have managed a warning, a message. She would have known better than to make a deal with Darth Vader. And also she...

_Stop it_!

Leia chided herself for the derisive thoughts. It wasn't fair to Lando Calrissian. He'd been as driven as she had in his search for Boba Fett these last several months.

"Well, promise me you'll be careful," Luke was saying.

"I'm a big girl," Leia reminded him. "I can take care of myself."

Luke began laughing. "Can you take care of the both of you is what I want to know? If there's trouble out there, Han will find it. Obviously _you_ know that."

"I'll do my best, my witty, witty sibling." Leia went to say good morning or good night, whatever time it was where he stood, when she remembered that Luke was one who had contacted her and not the other way around, though oddly, she felt as though it had been her to begin with. "Luke, what is it?"

He folded his hands together and rested his chin on the bridge. He appeared to be studying her closely. It was nearly a full minute before he said anything. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?"

He didn't even blink or frown or pause, just continued staring curiously back at her. "I don't know. Maybe it was the accident today. I might have felt that. Or... maybe it was something else. I just felt like I needed to..." His voice drifted away momentarily until it was nearly disembodied, then returned stronger and with less uncertainty just before Leia went to check the audio feed controls. "I felt like I needed to make sure you were okay. Check in. I don't even know if it was important... I just did." He grinned boyishly. "Maybe it's silly."

Leia smiled. If her brother worried separately from his Force instincts than it made him no different than the thousands of other mothers and father, sisters and brother, friends and loved ones who worried about each and every being involved in the war. "No. It's not silly at all. It's sweet."

"I'll let you go then. May the Force be with you."

"You too." Knowing he cared for her enough to worry and feel compelled to contact her from five star systems away was touching Lately, she was feeling like she truly had a home again, if only if in her heart, that these tenuous connections she'd been hanging on to for the past three years were solid as duracrete and even more permanent. It felt good. She added, "I love you."

Looking vaguely surprised and embarrassed, Luke stammered the endearment in return before he signed off.

Leia stared at the empty pad in confusion until she realized that she'd never said that aloud before. She hoped it had surprised him a good way. And that he knew she meant it.

_And,_ Leia thought, relieved, _at least he didn't bring up Anakin Skywalker this time_. Maybe the entire subject had died temporarily. Maybe he was giving up. Only a handful of nights ago, before Luke had left for the mission, they had finally had '_the talk.' _To her relief, her brother agreed that telling no one was the best course of action. Had he been fool enough to suggest otherwise, she'd essentially thought a hysterical screaming fit might be the end result.

"_I was horrified when I learned the truth and I know you were too_."

Luke had said that too, but she wasn't sure it was the same for the both of them. Words like _forgiveness _and _repentance _and _redemption_ tumbled from his mouth.

Their father had never set out to become Darth Vader, Luke maintained. Leia didn't care either way what Anakin had ever intended to become. Had his life's ambition been to be a grassland artist or a starfruit scrumper on Corvis Minor she would have curried no sympathy for him. In fact, ever since Bakura and his appearance to her, the more she'd thought about it, the _angrier_ she felt that the man, the spirit, whatever he was, had had the audacity to appear to her at all. There were crimes for which amends could never be made, sins so terrible forgiveness could never be an option. There were sins for which redemption ceased to exist.

To her brother, the matter wasn't so cut and dried. Conversations with him were always circular and multi-levelled. When she had expressed her growing concerns to him that moving back into a politician's realm was proving difficult for her, Luke had encouraged her to be what she was, and said that her conflict would end up resolving itself.

As of yesterday, she'd sensed that his advice had not been directed toward her work. In the back of her mind she'd applied his advice to the multitude of conflicts in her life and found it not so reassuring.

But that was just the way things were going to be.

Just as Han had gained a new co-pilot whether he liked it or not.

All was quiet on the _Falcon_ when she arrived. Pausing in the main hold to slide off her boots and remove her blaster and tie-down holster, she tiptoed quietly toward Han's quarters and then into the dim cabin.

Why Han preferred to live on his ship when they had more than adequate quarters established on Endor was beyond her. It was as though he was perpetually prepared to escape, although Leia knew it ran deeper than that. More than anything, the _Falcon_ was familiar to him. It was his second skin; it was his home away from… wherever it was that had once been his home.

Without hesitating, Leia dropped both her heavy jacket and the quilted vest on the floor. Then she lay down on her side, careful not to press too much of her weight into any one spot so that the bunk didn't slump. For a change, Han looked innocent, sleeping, facial muscles relaxed, lips slightly parted. It appeared he'd lain down and not meant to fall asleep, for he was still dressed and on top of the thermal blankets. In truth, she was grateful to see him sleeping peacefully. He hadn't been lately; she knew that, though he would have been the first to deny it and the last to admit it he was still a victim of his recent ordeal in carbonite. The lovely Princess would share his ship if it soothed him and let him insist he'd always been a restless sleeper without offering a word of evidence to the contrary. There were things she fathomed without needing to speak of them. Experience had made an expert of her.

"Hey." His voice was thick and groggy.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, snuggling into his back and wrapping her one arm tightly over his waist.

"I was waiting for you."

Leia pressed her lips against the back of his neck. She was relieved that her brother had contacted her after all. It would set her mind at ease in the coming weeks, free her from the inevitable regret of not telling him personally about the trip. "Luke is well," she said quietly.

"That's good to hear."

"First thing tomorrow I'll go meet with-"

"No." Han rolled over playfully, looking very much awake, and began peeling back the shoulder of her bodysuit.

"No?"

"I wasn't waiting up for you to discuss logistics."

"Silly me." Leia rested her head on the fold of his elbow and smiled. Han's palm curled about her bared right breast, and then it began tracing an imaginary line all the way to the base of her stomach and then back again.

That pinnacle moment had already passed them by, that process where they went from near-lovers or almost-lovers to lovers. Gone was the moment where her desire had been sneaked away by apprehension and disquietude that she would hate what was supposed to be natural, that she wouldn't know what she was doing (and even then it had been wonderful to be anxious about something so ordinary, so common). Gone was the moment when allowing another person to claim her body had seemed like the most anomalous act in the universe, when it had left her burning and feeling broken open and vulnerable. Since then she had learned that Han could be, depending on his mood, extraordinarily patient or extraordinarily impatient. For instance, he had no patience for extra clothing, for anything that might get in the way; no patience for sleepy protests (although she couldn't recall protesting but once, and then she had been up for almost two days straight, and had forgotten that crawling into the _Falcon's _bunk would be received as an overture.) On the other hand, Han was also interminably patient at seducing her, at pleasing her, at making love to her.

After a few moments, Leia decided he was in a supremely patient mood after all, and marvelled with frustration that his hand never quite completed its journey downward, although she was expecting it too so determinedly that her breathing staggered. "It's late," she whispered.

Seemingly bemused, Han grinned at her through one side of his mouth. "Why are you whispering? Chewie's not here."

"I forgot." Leia nearly grinned back, but she remembered _why _Chewie wasn't there. It seemed useless to point out that they both desperately needed sobering sleep, nor mention how guilty she felt at routinely yawning drowsily through her brigade of daytime meetings. Instead, she leaned into the kiss that descended upon her and slipped her splayed fingers inside his loosened belt, brushing her fingertips against coarse curls and warm skin. She ran her palm over the indents along his hip and traced the muscles of his thigh until Han took a long indrawn breath that resonated between her thighs.

After a moment, Han rolled onto his right side so that they were facing each other and drew a knee over his hip. Not quite deadpan, he said, "I can't believe you threatened to go to Command."

"I was bluffing."

"You could've fooled me."

Frowning, Leia extricated herself and sat up. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk."

"About logistics."

"I don't want to talk about the fact that two hours ago you were preparing to leave without me."

Han began deftly unfastening the ties to her pants. "I'm not. Lie down."

"You -"

"I'm not."

This time, she allowed herself to be easily persuaded to drop the matter.

Seconds later they skin to skin. Exultantly, Leia lay back against the bedclothes and drew his weight atop her, finding it comforting to the primordial part of herself that had only recently awakened. She arched her spine and brought her feet up, encouraging him to push into her. He did, she felt as though she'd been smacked in the solar plexus or wound in the vice that surrounded around her ribs before she cried. Repositioning himself, Han rocked back onto his side with his knees raised and drew her lower leg back into place over his hip. One of her legs remained pinioned beneath him but he was surprisingly not heavy. She wrapped her free arm over his waist and pressed the pads of her fingertips into the small of his back. The undulation of his pelvis between her awkwardly parted legs was exquisitely keen, and she decided she liked it, curled sideways, mimicking a prone crouch with their legs tangled about each other.

It might have been the angle, or the way he moved, for they were so new to each other that few motions between their bodies had been rehearsed and nothing was predictable, but soon her expectant body stretched itself taut and the muscles above her knee seized his hip.

Han went unbearably still inside her. "Relax."

"I am relaxed." She kissed the hollow above his collar bone.

The warm arm tucked beneath her ribs shifted so that his grip encircled her neck. "More relaxed," he murmured into her mouth.

Han slipped his free hand between them. The heel of his palm moved over the curve of her pelvis and he began gently stroking her sex with the tip of his index finger. Leia nestled her cheek on his upper bicep and muffled her cries his chest, sinking, slowly, until her breaths became longer and longer, stretched bare and thin, until her skin was tingling and fiery. She drew her knee up even higher, so that the inside curve rested just beneath his shoulder. Face averted against him, she wailed in a way that she'd never imagined a woman could sound. Finally, the sensation tore through her bowels, over her skin, through her lungs, converging between her legs and spreading out in waves.

Hissing between his teeth and catching her tightly by the upper thigh, Han thrust her over sharply and shuddered into her at length.

The winds outside the _Falcon_ had picked up since her walk back from the Command Center and were whistling softly. The light from the holo-lamps scalded her raw flesh and the blanketing suddenly felt like it was made of steel fibres.

After a minute or two, coarse chin stubble, quaking with laughter, prickled the crown of her head.

"What?"

"I can't believe you were going to blackmail me."

_Neither can I_, Leia thought, cringing inwardly. She ran her tongue over the curve of her upper lip and tasted salt. Her bottom leg was tingling from cut off circulation. She went to pull apart and felt their sticky flesh protest where it was still joined together. "_Vos_," she declared under her breath.

Han half-laughed into her hair, still holding her leg firmly over his hip.

"I did mean every word," she insisted.

"I know you did." Han pressed his hand between her legs again and ticklish ripples again threaded their way to her toes.

She tipped her head back and caught him grinning crookedly down at her, and her only coherent thought was that she loved him. She grinned back, going for innocent. "You wouldn't want me going after you again so soon, would you?"

"You're not so subtle about it either." Han untangled himself, finally. He kicked was left of their clothing away from the foot of the bunk and yanked a mess of sheets and covers that smelled faintly of engine coolants up and over them. "That's what scares me."

Leia turned over in his arms and let him spoon around her. She considered rising to wash, but it the idea of climbing out of the warm bunk while Endor's night ran its cold fingers over the _Falcon's_ deckplates was less than appealing. Sleepy, her voice was as quiet as the wind outside. "It scares me too."


	3. Chapter 3

The Expansion Region was the site of one of the Old Republic's greatest experiments. In exchange for a percentage of the profits, _corporations_ rather than elected governments were allowed to control the various inhabited regions. The experiment was disastrous. What followed were centuries of oppression and exploitation, where the credit served as a dictator, god, and the means to all ends and the regional residents suffered without the luxury of complaint. Entire planets were denuded of their resources; ecosystems were so utterly annihilated – and swiftly – that Endor's looming damage paled in comparison. When the Old Republic finally learned of the goings on, they were quick to evict the ruling corporations, all of which were wealthy beyond most beings wildest dreams.

Like most desperate business transactions, the eviction came with a steep price.

In exchange for peacefully abandoning the civilized areas of the Expansion Region, an unsettled district made up of over five hundred planets lacking sentient life was offered to the ruling companies. Rather than have the Old Republic's government waste its money and funds by overseeing the corporations at work, the corporations were _again _granted the power to govern themselves under the watchful eye of a few Republic ombudsmen. There would be no pillaging of star systems for fast credits and no more barbaric working conditions for the Sector Employees. Still, the new operations flourished, and as time passed, the Old Republic began to keep its nose turned toward the wind.

The Corporate Sector was born.

Soon, this unofficial branch of the Old Republic was independent and answerable to no law outside the Sector, quickly outgrowing the marginal guidance mandated by the Republic. When this became abundantly clear to Coruscant, it was already too late. There were too many credits and too much power behind the scenes. The Corporate _Alliance _was struck between the Old Republic and the Sector instead. In the same manner that the Trade Federation had become its own self-governing entity, the Sector won a fair share of latitude. It was a frontier region of the galaxy, a set of far-flung space with different rules. Although it kept its ties to the Republic, it came to be seen as only distant relative in the Universe, familiar to all only because of the massive amounts of goods and supplies shipped Core-ward.

By the time Palpatine manipulated his way into power, the Corporate Sector had doubled in size, and a thousand new corporations had settled out there. It had developed its own policing forces, the Corporate Sector Authority and the CSA Security Police Force.

Amazingly, the Emperor left them alone.

Sitting in Chewbacca's oversized chair with her feet dangling high above the floor, Leia could only imagine what sort of behind the scenes deal had been struck with Palpatine. (_Your Eminence, we'll give you 10%? 20%? of the profits for x number of years_. _Fund this New Order you want to create with our taxes_.) Many of the annexed systems _had_ contained sentient lifeforms and developed civilizations. They'd fallen to the New Imperialism, and it was, as they said, "The Sector's dirty secret."

Over the past few years, Han had entertained she and Luke with a few coloured tales about the Sector's dirty secrets; she knew he'd lived there. The Corporate Sector was a frontier, a great place to hide from the Empire, from Bounty hunters, from life. Han Solo said it was easy to make credits and find trouble.

The 'finding trouble' issue notwithstanding, Leia wondered if her desperation to accompany him was truly embedded in concern for his well being or rooted in something deeper and more selfish.

There was a tactful difference between asking for a vacation and requesting a necessary leave. In her case, she had informed them of her departure, not requested a leave. _General Solo has a pressing matter to attend to. I'll be accompanying him as co-pilot as Chewbacca is injured_. That was all she'd offered them, worried that they could all read between lines. Everyone had been polite enough to refrain from doing so if they could.

It was more personal than they might have imagined. In the deepest shadows of her being, needy emotional taproots, gnarled and thirsty and tired of pernicious struggling, forced aside all logic. Leia was drained from keeping up the ruse. She needed to _not_ turn around and see Command personnel, people she respected and cared about, and sense that _big _secret she was keeping. She needed to not think about it for a day, a week. She needed not to attend meetings where the name _Darth Vader_ was commensurate with everyday chatter, where her diplomatic abilities were lauded and solicited for future missions. Her skills and training were of great use to the Alliance of Free Planets, but she wasn't at her best and she knew it. She was off-balance and out-of-focus.

The first rule of diplomacy was child's logic. An individual at war with herself could not bring peace those outside herself. Only once she'd made peace within could she set about bringing peace to the rest of the galaxy. A week or two was precious little time for private negotiations, but it was better than nothing and all she could afford. And naturally, she didn't trust trouble to not find Han Solo if it was out there. What Luke had stated so plainly was also true.

The dark-haired woman ran her fingertips over the cobwebby maze of blue-green veins along the inside of her left wrist, then looked up expectantly. They'd been in hyperspace for almost an hour. "Now do I get to find out what we're headed for?"

"Reltooine, Kalla or Mall'ordian. Your pick." Han unfastened his crash-straps and stood, grinning innocently before turning sharply on his heel. "I thought we'd discuss the logistics over dinner."

"I pick? Wait?" Leia unstrapped herself and chased him down the passageway. "Why am I choosing? I thought we were going to meet up with someone."

"We are." He hesitated. "Kind of. All of those destinations meet up with _Galaxy Tours_ cruise ships and are only a hop, skip and a jump away from Bonadan."

"Bonadan?" The possibility that Han had plotted and schemed to set things up so that she insisted he take her along on what was actually a pre-planned vacation crossed her mind. However, this trip had caused too much conflict for him to have instigated it himself. As much as he'd been talking about private time away recently, even he wouldn't go through this much trouble. Confused, Leia canted her ear toward her shoulder. "We're going on a cruise?"

"Uh huh. Dropping directly on Bonadan is out of the question. We can't pass the _Falcon_ through her security."

"What's so important on Bonadan?"

"It has an Authority Data Center."

Leia suppressed a worried chuckle. "The _Millennium Falcon's_ hot, in other words. Why didn't you just say so?"

Han smiled sheepishly, as near to exhibiting embarrassment as she'd ever seen. "In other words, yeah, my baby is hot. We'll catch a passenger liner. As I was saying, you get to choose. Let me know by morning" He stretched his mouth into a roguish grin. "Then you can't say I never let you decide anything."

The prospect jarred her somewhat. Leia wasn't feeling all that confident about not having the _Falcon_ at their disposal, but Han lips were on her before she managed to put an argument together that didn't undermine the fact that she'd insisted he bring her along in the first place. She forgot about the rest of what she'd wanted to say and braced her hands against his chest before her mind went with her words. "Dinner," she prompted. "I was going to change and wash up."

"Dinner," he repeated, twining his fingers just inside her hairline at the nape of her neck. "Sadly, rations, but they'll have to do."

"That's okay."

"Is it?" His other hand began roaming down her back.

The neck massage at the base of her scalp was feeling incredibly wonderful. _To heck with it all_, she thought winsomely, pushing up onto her tiptoes and kissing him again, first beneath his ear and across his throat and up to his mouth again. The pressure along her back went from gentle to more forceful. Han breathed in deeply though his nose, making little noises. Whenever they found a few minutes to be alone, Chewbacca was repairing power couplings down the hall, or Lando arrived uninvited claiming that he'd forgotten a thousand-credit humidor of T'bac in a forward smuggling compartment, asking Han had he seen his antique Zelonian cufflinks about anywhere. At present, there were no comlinks ringing in the background. For the first time she could remember they were absolutely and utterly alone without a looming deadline.

It was he who broke apart at last, chastising her warmly. "I'm not going to get dinner made at all if you keep this up."

"You started it," she accused, wiggling free.

"I did _not_," he insisted, straight-faced.

Leia began laughing at him.

"Granted, I'm very, very, _very_ interested in pursuing it."

Peals of laughter winded her so that she fell over knees, hugging herself. Laughing at Han when she didn't know what else to say was the best defense she'd cultivated. The only recourse besides laughter was tackling him to the ground and tearing at his clothes and he would have liked that all _too _much. She wondered what he would think if she ripped off her clothes and ran shrieking around the ship in a fit of festive revelry.

"What did I say?" He stared at her, befuddled, and set his hands on his hips. "What did I do? You know… I was going to ask you if wanted something to drink but now I'm thinking you don't look like you need it."

"I need it," she gasped.

Han raised his eyebrows suspiciously. "I don't know if I should."

"You most definitely should." Han was wearing an old black sweater that hugged his lean frame and accented his military style trousers nicely. The galley lights winked off his hair and when he leaned over and dragged a stowaway compartment partway out for inspection, Leia decided watching him move about the galley qualified as riveting in-flight entertainment. Han was beautiful to her, though she knew he would have scowled if she said so and demanded an adjective more befitting a space pilot, a smuggler, a Corellian.

"I only have red. That all right?"

"That sounds lovely."

When Han handed her the glass, he lightly stroked the bare skin along the inside of her arm before letting go and just as quickly she was consumed with flashes of how his hands had felt on her body last night. The sensation came over her with a strange sense of dizzying vertigo that made her want to lay down on something soft and rest her cheek.

"Music?"

"Not the _Screaming Jawas_." Leia pointed a finger at him, recognizing the sly look in his eye. "You put them on and _I'll_ start screaming."

"No one will hear you."

"No one will hear you either," she warned.

"Threats, threats," he drawled sardonically. "Some negotiator you are."

She was conscious of a want to babble on. She took a sip of her wine. "I'm going to go wash up now."

"I'll still be here, Princess."

She brought her travel bag and the glass of wine to his quarters.

There wasn't much to do other than wash her face and pull on a clean long-sleeved tunic. The few nicer articles of clothing she owned had been set aside saved for planetfall expeditions. She tried to smooth back her uneven strands of hair, gave up and freed it all from the knot at the base of her neck. Then she returned to the galley and cluttered forward compartment.

Han wasn't quite right in thinking that she didn't care what others thought. The universe was a big place, with customs as varied from one end of it to the other as night was to day, as blood was to water, methane to oxygen. For those worlds that sanctioned the various forms of pair bonding, sex was anything from sacred to casual. Most of the civilized galaxy recognized sex between two consenting adults, especially human adults, as a normal facet of life, like breathing, drinking, eating. Alderaan hadn't been quaint, nor had had it been behind the times but there had been separate rules for those of her upbringing. Early on, Leia had decided that the quickest way to tie up wagging tongues, both those of the remnants of the Alderaanian Council and the members of the Alliance elite, was to live as though she didn't care what they thought.

So far it was working. Either that or everyone was too shocked to comment. On Alderaan they had also said that when you couldn't stand not giving in it was high time to let go.

Han had set the table and the thermo-blaster was beeping.

Motioning to the table, she asked, "Do you need help or should I-"

"Sit. Sit. My ship, _my_ guest."

Leia filed the manifesto away for the future reference. Despite the fact that she was starving, for the most part she picked at her food, clinking her cutlery against her plate and pretending to eat. She sipped freely from her wine instead. Rations weren't always appetizing under the best of circumstances. Han promised that they would have fresh supplies for the return trip, although Leia could have cared less about her dinner next week.

"Maybe you should update me on what exactly is going on."

"I should." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a thin disk, and moved to the built-in com-scan system beside the in-flight chair. Leia followed. "This is all I have to go on."

A striking woman with a strong jaw, warm brown eyes and a mass of close-cropped blonde hair appeared on the display screen. Although her voice was high and lilting, her clothes were the durable coveralls of a spacebarn mechanic. "Solo… It's been a long time."

"I'm contacting you to inform you that my father was arrested three standard months ago. If this reaches you, I too, have been found in hiding and taken into custody. I don't have much time, so here are the bare facts. We've been accused of subterfuge in a joint Espo and Imperial investigation into the business practices of our freighter company, Shardra Interstellar Shipping. Primarily, we've been exporting slick, although sixteen months ago, we branched out and took on a few choice customers. A few months ago, we began losing loaded freighters along the northern path of the Kalinda System trade route. At first we believed they were the work of free-zone pirates."

"What are free-zones?"

"Freeze," Han commanded. The woman's expression paused. He turned to her and explained. "It's not Imperial, it's not Corporate, and it's not the Alliance. They sell to the highest bidders once they've taken the shipments."

_Of course, that explains a lot_.

"Running a freighter business is a good way of going legit. Keeping the fleet upgraded and so on. Her father is an ace mechanic and so is she. They did a lot of work on the _Falcon_ over the years, could make any modifications legit or otherwise."

"What's slick?"

"Fermented seaweed oil. It has medicinal properties. Looks like protoplasmic glurpfish half-dissolved and smells twice as ugly. Damned profitable to run between systems though."

"It's a type of spice?"

"No – it's the sector equivalent to bacta. Not that you can't get high off it too – you can - not that I've ever tried it." He glanced back at the screen, studying the female in silence. Then he murmured, "Huh," under his breath.

"What?"

"She cut her hair. She used to have it -" He tapped his elbow. "-To _here_. It was longer. Not as long as yours but long."

"Oh."

The recording continued. "Now all evidence lead us to believe that the Alliance has been running interference all along. I believe someone working for us had supplied them with up-to-date itineraries. Unfortunately, our records and assets have already been seized. All but one of our employees has vanished. We can't prove we had nothing to do with it, and if we can't, we're both going to be found guilty of treason. You're the only person in the Rebellion I knew to contact. I don't even know that you'll be able to do anything but I have no other hope right now."

"Right now I'm still on Vaynai. They'll move us for the pre-trial hearings. I don't know where. The only relevant details I can give you are that most of the shipments lost have belonged to _DefenStar Limited_."

"Those freighters were delivering security equipment to the Empire," Leia said flatly, too stunned to say much else.

Han barked _pause_ again. "Honey, out there it doesn't make a damn of a difference. Half of the civilized world in those territories believes the Authority is a hundred times more corrupt than the Empire ever could be. They're both good people, Jessa and Doc. To them it's all just good business, nothing else."

"This is why you wanted me to pull any datafiles on the Kalinda System. If this was an Alliance affair then why didn't we-"

"I don't want their help just yet. This recording isn't dated – Jessa didn't think to tell me when it was and that's making me uneasy. It's been at least six years since I've even seen them last. But it _is_ her..." His voice trailed off. "It is her…"

There was more; she could hear the reluctance to tell her in his voice.

A moment later, it made sense.

"I've seen a bit of news on you over the past few years." Jessa smiled, as though she couldn't help it. "Oh Han, I always knew that one day you'd realize you weren't cut out to play the heartless star pilot -"

Before she could finish, Han had hopped up and yanked the disk from the receiver. Whatever remained would be a mystery.

"_Hey_!" Leia slapped her palms down on her knees in protest. "This was just getting interesting."

"It's almost over anyway."

She couldn't keep from stating the obvious fact. "You two were lovers."

"Off and on."

"Off and on?"

"It was never serious."

Her own jealousy surprised her. It caught her like a sudden illness. Leia turned away and finished the last ounce of wine milling in her glass. She pushed what was left of her meal away from her. It had been obvious. _She still loves him… Of course she still loves_… _How could anyone not_? She wondered if Han could sense it watching the recording or if she was seeing in another woman what she carried within herself. There'd been other women before her. She knew that. She also knew that Han was the type who would never stay with anyone or anywhere unless he wanted to, and he had not stayed with this woman who was now summoning him from the shadowy recesses of his past. She mulled the fresh information and silent revelation repeatedly until she noticed that Han was shifting his legs and tapping his thumb and index finger together. Something was bothering him and it wasn't his old relationship with the woman. That was a relief, since she didn't want to know more, not yet. He wasn't acting at all the way he usually did when something was bound to perturb her.

"You're worried that this might be a trap, aren't you?" she ventured.

"Until I know otherwise I'm going to _assume_ it's some kind of trap." They returned to the cushioned seats around the holo-table, where escaping air hissed softly. Han stretched an arm over the back rim of the booth. "I'm not ruling anything out."

Partially relieved that his lack of invitation to begin with had not been due to Maryo's _Annual Sabaac Classic_ or a similar event, Leia pursed her lips. She was troubled by his apprehension for his suspicions tended to be on the credits. However, her earlier concerns were approaching one point of resolution. She felt doubly satisfied that her accompanying him was the right decision, regardless of whether or not it gave her a much needed reprieve from the issues unsettling her. After another eternity of waiting for his follow-up, she asked, "What's the plan?"

"The usual drill. We use a few fake ID's and I do some nosing around when we get to Bonadan." With his usual contagious confidence running over, Han managed to make it sound as though this _was_ their usual drill, as though they were going to meet with a sketchy Alliance contact. "The trick is not to bring the _Falcon_ in near any major Authority installations. If it _is_ a trap, every member of the Espo will be flying with her specs posted to their consoles." Han cleared his throat and began studying the metallic overhead paneling as though it had broken out in patches of carbon-scoring overnight. "If they aren't already to begin with."

Leia stared unabashed. "_What _in the stars did you do to become so popular?"

He kept his face expressionless. "I violated a few airspace regulations."

"Care to elucidate?"

"It's a long, long story."

"You're going to have to share it eventually."

"I might." He brought his gaze down. "Now pick a planet."

Leia closed her eyes and concentrated barely aware of the cool surface of the holo-table beneath her open palms. "Reltooine," she decided, then and there, forgoing the later spit-balling of ideas. "Not Mall'ordian. It's too close to the Aparo Sector border. Moff Wyrrhem and the _Harassa Fleet_ are sure to be running patrols around the vector prime sub-routes and we'll have to drop out of hyperspace there. If we're sighted or identified I don't want to have to guess _who_ it is coming after us later on."

Mouth slightly agape, Han chuckled. "Sweetheart, I'm impressed. Good looking _and_ she certainly knows her facts - considering she's never been out in those parts. Are you sure you're not holding back on me? Never been there?"

The former Alderaanian Senator _did_ make a point of keeping up-to-date on border skirmishes and Imperial politics. It was a hard habit to break and ultimately integral to her work now. Leia lifted a curved eyebrow suggestively. "Maybe I was in a past life. Maybe we even did business together and you don't remember me."

Amused, the Corellian dropped both hands out of sight. "Not a chance. I _would_ remember you even in a past lifetime. Now, have you ever been on the big luxury liners?"

"No."

"Ah. Then you're in for a treat," he replied, lifting the corner of his mouth. "I hope you brought something dressy to wear."

"I might have," Leia bantered back, paying more attention his touch beneath the table than anything he was actually saying. Feeling giddy and warm inside, she reached over and traced the scratchy curve of his cheek. "You'll just have to wait and see."


	4. Chapter 4

They found a safe drydock on Reltooine for the _Falcon_ and secured passage on _Galaxy Tours_ next available liner, the _Kuari Princess_, where their accommodations were cozy if not spacious. The second-class stateroom had only one tiny viewport that faced the ship's interior well. From there they could look down into the sliver of cloudsea space and beyond. Still, the legendary luxury liner was magnificent. It was five hundred meters in length and carried over three thousand passengers, with staterooms designed for twenty-seven species. It had seventeen casinos, two bazaar decks, a marketplace, an art gallery, five rejuvenation parlours, six amphitheatres, and over three dozen shops selling trinkets, souvenirs, clothing and basically anything for which a traveler could be enticed to pay double the value. There were nightclubs, cigarillo bars, restaurants serving all varieties of human and non-human food, and an interplanetary competition sized sodium hydroxide swimming pool to boot. If material goods, fine foods and other forms of fleshy entertainment didn't capture one's fancy, the liner also had a multi-fabled past, including a hijacking by the Riders of the Maelstrom, an _attempted_ hijacking by Tionese Pirates, and eleven in-flight murders. Supposedly, several ghosts haunted the ship, but only the crew ever claimed to have seen them.

By the end of the two-day voyage, Han had learned two new things about Leia. One, she was a mean Five Star Hand player, capable of smiling beguilingly and asking rather air-headed questions of even the most grandfatherly of players, all the while plotting her next move. She _liked_ to win almost as much as he did only she didn't share his urge to linger and continue winning until the House closed her down. Secondly, without distractions or pressing schedules, she took longer baths than anyone he'd ever met, even a few individuals that were part amphibian.

For the most part, they kept a low profile, enjoying their time alone and never straying from their second-class deck.

Until the end of this morning's sleep cycle, that was.

Currently, rising fast beneath him was the planet of Bonadan. The withered, green-hungry planet was still covered by eroded wastelands and industrial centers. It hadn't changed in the past six years.

Han rubbed a hand through his newly cropped hair and blinked rapidly until his left bio-lens settled back into his place. It wouldn't do to have a lens fall out at customs. They were dark grey and complemented by a black tailored suit that was a remnant of a semi-respectable phase he'd gone through several lifetimes ago. Leia had been commenting on both the suit and his hair since that morning. ("I didn't know you meant to cut it that short," she kept saying. "You look like you just checked into the Imperial Academy.") Han hadn't meant to cut it that short. The automated barber obviously didn't know what 'take a little off the top meant,' but he was trying not to think about that. Accidental glimpses of his reflection were conjuring up images of his younger self on Carida, of another era.

As their transport shuttle made its way planetfall through the thick tibanisphere-like haze, clear-skied bubbles began to pepper the landscape. The giant bubbles were cities, complete with skyscrapers, megamallplexes, factories, spaceports, residential towers – everything and anything needed to keep the industries going, along with the hundreds of thousands of one-story peracrite buildings needed to house the beings that lived there. The spacelanes hummed with thousands of miniscule vessels. Adjacent to each of the cities, like insects only inches away from one another and not dozens of kilometres, were tiny installations from which thick cinnabar smoke billowed. They were the smelting refineries, stationed in the man-created deserts.

It was a grim picture. Han couldn't remember caring the last time he had been here but today, the sight of a wasted world languishing beneath the excrement of its own wealth stirred him deeply.

Bonadan was a very prominent urbanized mining and manufacturing world, with ten major spaceports and a population near one billion. What the world lacked in scenic ambiance it made up for in sales. The ecologically ravaged planet was the duty-free capital of the Corporate Sector. In its largest urban hub, Trade City, goods were bought and sold at a fraction of their production cost. _Galaxy Tours_ used Trade City as a layover point; passengers disembarked and spent piles and piles of credits.

Han called the whole pocket-digging shebang_ credicruising_. _Galaxy Tours_ seduced middle-class folks into paying up their life savings for the trip of a lifetime and then sucked them into spending more cash with a layover here. In return, Bonadan Industries Inc. paid _Galaxy Tours_ a nice tidy percentage of its annual profits. The facilities ran all day and all night. There were no holidays. Nothing ever closed and production never ended.

Out of the corner of his eye, Han caught Leia eyeing the oasis bubbles of clear sky through the large window too. Like him, she was in disguise. She'd fashioned sections of her hair solloops-style, with long loops curled flat over her crown. The arrangement was knotted together in the center and the rest of her hair poured down her back like a dark rippling waterfall. She wore an ankle-length Aquellan-style sundress of cobalt blue that was layered and clinging to her calves. Along her forearms and the backs of her hands were tribal prints done silver and gold. Draped over shoulders was a feathery veil, transparent on one side only, ready to be drawn over her face the instant she feared she might be recognized. Since attempting to dress the regal-natured princess down on a mining world would have proved impossible, she'd opted to dress up, just not as herself. Aquellans were well-known for their habit of veiling themselves in public, both women and men. At worst, she'd appear to be a high-priced concubine traveling with an export agent. At best, an Aquellan woman on vacation. If she flashed enough credit vouchers, hopefully, it wouldn't matter either way.

"What do you think?" he prompted.

"_Oh_." Leia pointed below them. "Look at that."

Han peered down just in time to see a flash of lightening jump from within a funnel-shaped weather system that appeared to be charging straight for the spaceport. It continued at a ferocious pace, gathering dust and gravel and smoke, doubling in size within seconds. Then, at the last moment, the storm jerked to the left, sparing the port and the waiting ships. It skittered approximately a kilometre off toward the flats and then was seemingly sucked back into the overhead clouds.

"It's a sweeper storm," another passenger informed her before he could. "All the mining planets use them."

By then their shuttle was so low to Trade City that Han couldn't keep sight of the anticlimactic finale. Leia turned to the newcomer, a stocky middle aged man, as wide across the chest and shoulders as he was across the waist. "A sweeper storm?"

"Artificially generated weather system. The authorities run them a few times a day around the spaceports to clean up what's in the air. As if electrocuting the atmosphere is gonna clean it up any." He clucked to himself. "It just moves it around, doesn't do anything about the stuff those smelting mines are emitting. That's what'll kill ya. The ion shielding they've got up around the cities doesn't do much else either than keep out the worst stench of the zinsian smelting mines."

"Ion shielding," Han wondered. "I thought they only used that on Knolstee."

"It's a spreading marvel of modern technology."

That was bad news. If the local corporations thought they could protect major cities from over-pollution, environmental safety measure would be ignored in the mines. It was the usual drill.

The stranger dug a few worn paper pamphlets from his pocket. "The _Reclaim Bonadan_ _Project_, that's what I'm here for. Our annual conference is on. We don't want Bonadan to become another wasteland like Tothis."

_It's too late for that_, Han thought. _And this is the _nicer_ side of the planet. _

"Are you two here to hit the sales?"

"Yes," Leia said, just as Han muttered, "No." He cleared his throat. "A little of both. I'm in exporting. I'm here to check out the wholesale supplies of…" _What was it they use zinsian for?_ "Er… dry preservatives. And naturally, the lady will be shopping."

The stranger clucked again and shook his head. "My wife will-"

"Marik dear… oh Marik…" a woman's voice called. A middle-aged Belascan woman proudly wearing a garishly gaudy headdress adorned with silvery beads grabbed for his arm. "I told you not to spout off about the convention to the other tourists again."

"I wasn't dear."

"I heard you from over there." She tipped her headdress angrily in the direction of _there_. "Now get up back to the front. You know how I hate being last off these things…"

"We've got five more minutes before we-"

"I hate being late!"

"Yes dear." He turned and winked. "Don't drink the city water if you know what's good for you."

Han wondered what it would be like to spend the four-day layover listening to that voice and being hauled from mallplex to mallplex and decided that he might shoot himself in the head before the end of the first morning.

A more melodic voice crooned in his ear. "Han dear... Oh Han…."

Han refused to turn around. "Don't give me any ideas."

After their shuttle landed, they were hustled onto a series of long tubule moving sidewalks, which were the primary means of transportation through the groundlinks that connected the landing pads to the customs checkpoint. Holopromotions and holoscreens assaulted them from above and every side. There were incessant walls of blinding motion and shuddering images, like brightly coloured mynocks panicking in a dark cave, like briars with their thorns turned outward. Even if a passer-by didn't mean or want to turn their heads read, they did, hopelessly snagged until their necks ached from twisting around like a corkscrew. Shouting and chattering accompanied the holo-ads, assaulting their helpless ears. Like the ads, the din was impossible to ignore. Tiny holo-ports sprayed the air with everything from perfume to the simulated odour of freshly fried passhk root. One grew used to the interminable media assault, or learned that the quickest way to deal with the nagging temptations was to purchase them. Eventually everyone developed buyer's eyes.

Han read disinterestedly. Oddly, the predominant features were endorsements for the cruiseline they were already traveling with. _Let us cocoon you in elegant luxury for the duration of your journey. _The slogan was obviously directed toward species whose developmental progress was marked by stages called _pupa_ and _larvae_, Han thought, yet none of the other humans seemed to find it offensive. The megacorporation_ Tion Industries and Starfreight _was a hard at work everywhere he turned too_. Find a product but worried about shipping costs? We live to bid on your business._

Beside him, Leia blinked rapidly and turned her chin from left to right as though she sought to escape it. "Is it like this everywhere?"

"Worse."

"Worse?"Leia reached over and squeezed his hand in a gesture that was meant to reassure him (he could tell, although he hadn't intended to make 'worse' sound like 'I'm worried').

"It's all right," he almost said, but didn't, because for that moment his throat closed in on itself with emotion. Behind her self-aware smile was her absolute trust and faith in him – the look caught him off guard.

Soon, they were fighting their way through the spaceport depot and shepherded through Bonadan Security and Customs. With the _Millennium Falcon_ on Reltooine (where it was registered as the _Sunlight Franchise_), there was no need to fuss over forged ship waivers and fake transponders. Their citizenship identification had been created by professionals in the Core and would pass the tightest Imperial inspection. The only items they were missing were his blastech and Leia's holdout blaster. Weapons were strictly prohibited on Bonadan. Han hated it but they'd had no other choice.

The Portmaster passed them through the scanners and assigned them a Visitor's Consumption Tag expediently. Beyond the Portmaster's station an attendant droid, sporting naked metal and the _Galaxy To_urs logo on his front circuit-plate, idled with an unknown purpose.

Just as Han stepped through the customs gate, the droid launched into song.

"Galaxy Tours would like to thank you, like to thank you, like to thank youuuuu..."

In the split second his warring senses were processing the information, Han was honestly too shocked to either reach for a blaster that wasn't there or run. "What the fuck?" Han almost blurted out. The pre-recorded jingle sounded like it was being sung by a woman with a major helium addiction.

"Captain Sol Kylus and guest," the droid announced regally. "Today is the thirtieth anniversary of the _Kuari Princess's_ maiden voyage. In honour of her three decades serving _Galaxy Tours_, ten of our couples have been selected via lottery to be upgraded to our Emperor Suites at the _Novaplex _hotel for the duration of this layover. _You _are one of our lucky couples."

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me. _The voice sounded absolutely ridiculous, pre-recorded and trapped inside the tinny head. Everyone around them was staring. Han scanned the vicinity of the terminal. There were no security personnel waiting in the lobby, not even any plainclothes Espo tucked into the bizarre gumbo of species.

"_Galaxy Tours_ and their subsidiary _Novaplex_ love to show their appreciation for their patrons. As you know they frequently offers packages for charity raffles and make other sizeable donations to organizations dear to their patron's hearts."

The droid continued prattering on about the glories of _Galaxy Tours_ while Han and Leia exchanged suspicious glances. The Corellian was lamenting just about every decision he'd made in the past five days when another waiting attendant droid began beeping out the same happy tune.

"Marik dear! Did you hear that? Did you hear that?"

"Yes dear."

Han snapped his head around. The annoying Belascan woman who'd collected her husband so rudely on the shuttle was positively beside herself, clutching her husband's arm as though she might faint from sheer delight. She sounded like and ad. "The Emperor Suites. The Emperor Suites... Marik! Room service and all pop luxury services are part of our complete package. Oh my... Oh my... I've always wanted..."

Slowly and cautiously, Han began entertaining the possibility that this wasn't an elaborate ruse by anyone seeking to trap him. They were plain old regular folks who'd won a better trip than the overpriced one they'd already paid for. Basic accounting sense told him no one would pay _Galaxy Tours/Novaplex_ thousands of credit to create a loopy sting operation that involved putting him or her up in first class along with half a dozen other couples.

Feeling reassured, Han decided to feel not quite so nonplussed by their good fortune and enjoy it for what it was worth. "Hear that Sweetheart." He grinned a little madly at her. "We're going first class."

Leia arched her body with the ease of young sapling up onto her tiptoes; the dark blue folds of her skirts swimming about her knees. She whispered into his ear, "I hope you didn't pull any strings for this."

Han considered that for a second, and then leaned down and whispered, "me too," just as the droid started directing them away from the crowds.

"Captain Kylus. Step through these doors and our own private limousine service will be happy to deliver you to the _Novaplex_."

The streets outside the starport were brightly lit and plangent from the ocean of deafening traffic. Local transport grav-sleds and commuters made up most of the street level transit. Above their heads, thousands of crafts zoomed by on the specially marked speed levels stretching all the way up to the penthouse levels of the skyscrapers. Carefully tended advertising space was stationed between the major streets and the walks, flickering and begging for attention.

Hot bitter air hit them in them in the face like a ton of duracrete. Even with the ion fields, the smell of burning chemicals was thick and sweetly nauseating. Leia made a disgusted face. Han was about to comment on the rankness when he saw an _Hrrkan _that had disembarked from the _Kuari Princess_ with them turning up its proboscis in the air. "Ah… the smell of credits," it hissed. Han deemed it best not to say anything about the odour. Sometimes locals were easily insulted. In a day or so he wouldn't even notice it. A day or so after that, he'd be gone. Instead, he waved to the courtesy escort droid. "I have a request?"

"For what, Sir?"

He jabbed an index finger determinedly back in the direction of Marik and his loudmouthed wife. "Can you make sure our room is as far away from those two as possible?"

A short time later, the starpilot was scuffing his polished boots on noise dampening carpets that cost more than the sum of the _Falcon_ and her parts. At a thousand credits a night or so, their accommodations were resplendent. The off-white suite was furnished with burl weku veneer and shale-leather furniture coverings that were soft and fuzzy like velvety skin of newborn nerf pup. (In fact, it wouldn't have surprised him to learn they were the skins of a rare breed of mammalian young from Ortis V.) The winged body-conforming lounge was slightly recessed into the walls and curved to fit the room's circular design. Behind it, the wall-sized viewport gazed upon the gleaming city. It didn't look as dismal after sundown as it had when they were landing. It sparkled all the way to the end of the ion field. Beyond that, the sunset was a beautiful blood-red and the looming dinginess caused by pollution was barely a memory on the horizon.

The main bedroom was no less fabulous.

Leia pounced on the silicone-bead bed that was big enough for four Wookiees. "Oh my stars."

"Impressed?" he asked. Winning the upgraded trip was beginning to suffuse him with a sense optimism. The last time he'd ever won anything had been with Luke on a run to Ord Cantell. It had only been a bottle of Antellian cognac in a cantina raffle, but the prize had boded well for their mission. Perhaps Jessa and Doc had already been released and this would be nothing more than a spur of the moment vacation.

"It's been a while," she sighed wistfully, kicking off her sandals. "A long, long time."

Far off in the distance through their bedroom window, he spied the CSA Security Central tower standing sentry.

Leia followed his gaze. "So how do we go about retrieving information from the Direx's system to find out if your friends were brought here for trial?"

"I figure they were assigned a registered Pleader. We might be able track him or her down and slip him the Kalinda system datafile."

Leia pursed her lips as though she disproved of the idea. She probably did. "I thought that was a last resort."

"It could be enough information to clear them and we'd be out of here fast," he pointed out.

"What's your plan B?" she asked, obviously hoping he had one.

Plan B was a nebulous barrage of schemes bouncing off one another in the back of his brain. Handing over the Kalinda system datafile would be the easiest way out of this. Han deflected the question. "How about yourself. Have any ideas?"

She slipped the edge of the bed. "If you don't mind, _food_. I think better on a full stomach."

"So do I."

Alongside the bureau was a tri-zone automatic climate control panel, equalized speaker settings and theatre style holo-lamps. To the right was a standard information bureau with dozens of tiny geometrical squares detailing the services available. Han gave the square marked _dining_ a tap and the small screen morphed into the entire panel. There were too many restaurants listed to choose from, so he tabbed for a map of Trade City. Their hotel was nestled just between the alien quarter and the human quarter.

When he enlarged the human quarter grid, Leia's fingers darted over to a symbol placed in the upper left corner. It was the figure of a molotar amidst a wreath of cirrus clouds and fire. "They have an Alderaanian quarter," she said. "In the North end. There's still an embassy here."

"Still?"

"Only on Coruscant. And here." She dropped a sandal from her fingertips and clumsily began shoving her right foot inside without untying the straps. "Since it happened."

Han struggled not to say what he wanted. Anyway, he couldn't read her expression with her face turned down. Visions of a lowly Alderaanian ambassador or desk clerk recognizing the only surviving member of the World Family loomed large and troublesome in his mind. Surely, anyone would recognize her. Surely, they had holo-images and pictorials of the ruling family. It wasn't as though she'd been just _anyone_ on her homeworld.

Finally, he said it. "This could be a problem for us."

"I really don't see how, unless we're going near it."

"Then I take it we're not going near it."

Leia pivoted without meeting his eyes and gazed toward the CSA Security Central tower again, with her one sandal halfway on, and the other dangling from her fingertips on the verge of being cast away.

"We're not going near it," Han said again, this time more adamantly for he could see already that nothing was agreed upon. Her long lithe neck was taut with unspoken indecision. Maybe _this_ was it, the irrational uncreated fear that had beat at him back on Endor, the sense that bringing her with him was dangerous, that something was going to happen.

"I would wear the veil, Han." She kept her tone matter of fact. "No one would know."

"_Leia_."

Her words hardened like drying clay. "All right. I won't."

The _Last Hypergate Jump_ was their first tapcaf of the night. The darkly painted walls bore heavy streaks of driprot. The overhead luma-panels were mostly burned out so that only the dusty grey outlines of its inhabitants and any fixtures were visible. The struts were spaced at odd intervals so that it was impossible to see straight in any one direction, almost as though the interior had been designed to hide the ongoing and less than legal proclivities of its patrons. The smell of spice and foreign cigarillo smoke was heavy in the air. Music pregnant with the beat of tympanic pulsers played at a barely tolerable level but that was moot as the narrow booths were so close together that private conversation was difficult anyway. Han and Leia were doing nothing more than talking while they waited for their eyes to adjust to the light.

Han was hoping to retrieve information on Jessa and Doc without going through the public channels. After that, he needed a skip-tracer that kept flexible data-files. There was always a backdoor to corporate records.

"You've been here before but not to Trade City?" Leia prompted.

Han moved to sip from his brewglass and set his elbow in a puddle of alcoholic spillage left by the booth's previous patrons. He grabbed an oily serviette and swiped at it. "I hit the South Continent - the Southeast Spaceport City. Most of my employers were more interested in doing business in areas where free trade was nonexistent." He gave her a fast wink. "It _was_ smuggling after all."

"**Then what led you here?"**

"A detour."

Leia leaned forward with starry-tinted eyes; the luma nearest them was flickering like a moonglow moth in heat. "Don't make me play the 'I'll make it worth your while game'. You've collected." Her upper lip curled slightly, deviously. "In advance, my love."

They'd been very late leaving their suite for dinner after all. Not because he'd intended it, but because he'd wanted to make that _look _on her face go away, the one full of hurt that he could never touch. The one he could distract her from but never fix.

His efforts had worked for the time being and privately, Han was enjoying the interrogation. "All right. I arrived seeking pay-out for a deal gone bad that involved Chewie, me, two dozen Lurrian slaves and the wrong end of a blaster carbine." His cheek ticked faintly at the memory of the child-sized bipeds encased in slaving collars. "Once we got rid of the dead weight attached to the other end of the blaster and returned the Lurrians to their homeworld, I came here trying to collect the slaver's payment from his contact."

"What happened?"

"A woman showed up in the meeting spot. She sent me off to another hanger to collect payment only when I arrived someone tried to kill me."

"A _woman_?" She clucked at him, unabashedly amused, and tidied a loop of hair. "I had no idea you could be so gullible-"

"No, no, no…" Her mirth put him on the defensive. "You're imagining it all wrong. It wasn't _her_. She was playing sides, one of the good guys." Han cast her a look of reproach. "I thought you'd be concerned about the _almost getting killed_ part."

"I'd be concerned – but we all know how that turned out, don't we?" Leia tapped the rim of the goblet with her fingernail. "And then?"

"Ah… With the real boss of the slaver's ring after us here on Bonadan, we couldn't get near the _Falcon_; not even the hanger she was parked in. We caught an inter-system shuttle, then a cruise ship to Ammund where Chewie was supposed to meet us. Except en route to Ammund we were hijacked by pirates." He shrugged. "You know my luck. The pirates turned out to be the same people that were after us. We blasted our way to an escape boat and jumped ship- "

By then Leia's slender shoulders were quivering with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you ever – _have_ you ever, stopped to wonder _how_ you survived your smuggling career?"

"Same way I've survived working for the Rebellion."

"By the skin of your teeth."

Han squirmed on the bench, longing for the heavy weight of his blaster against his thigh. Having the Corporate Maker peer over his shoulder everywhere he went and being unarmed made him feel unsettled. "Thanks for the reminder."

This time she caved to his feigned hurt, or the insinuation that she'd caused him discomfort, stretching across the laminated table to trace the corded veins on the back of his hand. Her eyes were soft and warm. "I'm sorry. It's just that from what you've told me, it seems like every simple run you ever made landed in you in a lot of trouble."

"There _were_ hundreds if not thousands of runs that went smoothly," Han insisted, refusing to let on that he was enjoying the affection. "They just don't make for impressing the ladies. Don't worry. In the end, I collected. I always did."

"_Did _you collect here?"

"Eventually. That sums up my experience on Bonadan. I never came back." Again, Han paused to appraise the circular bar area curiously, seeking out empty seats and lonely souls. The less polished the atmosphere, the more likely people were to talk. Alcohol flowed freely in the working class sections, and mixed quarters tended to naturally be a bit more laid back as a consequence of learning to get along with one another. It was two hours after the standard day shift ended - if Bonadan followed the usual Corporate world rotational schedule. Patrons were arriving, many in their work-issued coveralls; uniforms in the factories and manufacturing plants were the same Sector wide. They would be feeling cheery and chatty soon enough. He and Leia would move to the bar for their next drink, take up any empty seats and begin to socialize.

Toward the forward end of the bar two humanoid females were chatting, a Falleen and a Twi'lek clad in matching neocel jumpsuits. Han admired the pair casually, wondering what a Falleen would be doing so far from the Core. A pilot maybe? Or a first-mate?

Leia lifted her hand and cleared her throat to get his attention. "There's a seat to your left between a pair of Yarkora that just opened up."

Han checked and saw that there was. Yarkora were gangly cowlike three-fingered creatures that had long whiskered snouts and enjoyed chewing any form of T'bac in their cud. They tended to drool profusely and smelled like freshly sprayed bantha musk. To top it off, they were just plain unpleasant to deal with. He shifted his elbow toward the much more appealing pair of humanoid women. "There's one up front."

"_I'll_ take the one up front."

Han shrugged his shoulders, and began digging in his pocket for a single credit chip. "I say we flip for the choice."

Leia lowered her voice and arched an eyebrow. "Next time don't gawk at the scenery."

"Hey-"

"And I'll make it up to you," she promised hastily.

"It better be by doing something a Khommite would consider dirty," he grumbled, resigning himself to the need for a long shower and fresh change of clothes back at the _Novaplex_.

"They consider _all_ physical contact dirty."

"Something a Zeltron courtesan - a _carafel_ - would consider dirty then?

"_My_. Well that gives us a lot of room to work with."

"I like having a lot of room to work with." Han slid out to the edge of the booth and reached for his beverage, "I just don't like baths as much as you do."

(This, because the tail end of their dinner discussion had centered on his disdain for the suite's four-man bath with its cushioned headrests and recessed benches.)

Leia arched an eyebrow again. "You're not using your imagination."

Han closed his eyes and imagined the feel of Leia's soapy hands stroking him until he was on the verge of exploding. He pictured her body, wet and writhing from position to position while his slippery hands ran over her and inside her and warm water swirled between them. He imagined her reddened mouth opening and closing, saying _oh, oh, oh_ over and over. He opened his eyes. "Done."

Leia looked up from the drink menu. "Done what?"

"Imagining," he went to say, but just then, a slight figure darted inside the tapcaf, dropped to its knees and scurried beneath their table.

It squeaked, "_Hide me, hide me_, _hide me_."

Before Han could ground out a word, six Espo charged into the tapcaf with their assault rifles drawn. Instinctively, Han fell back into the booth and stretched his legs out full length. Leia let her Aquellan veil begin to slip beneath the table, and then it snaked away from her of its own accord. The other patrons reacted immediately to the arrival of the security force by standing at attention; magically, none had noticed the creature entering or where it had gone.

As their table was nearest to the forward entrance, the squad commander reached them first.

"We saw a Lurrian run in here," he explained briskly. "Where did he go?"

"I didn't see any Lurrian run in here," Han admitted, with a degree of genuine honestly, for the creature hiding under his table wasn't a Lurrian unless they'd sprouted an en extra set of eyes and grown half a meter in less than a generation. The instant replay in his mind was telling him he'd seen four eyes.

The commander ducked his head back toward the entrance and tapped his stun baton against his edge of their table. "You're sitting nearest to the door. You _must _have seen something."

Han glowered at the clean-shaven jaw poking out from beneath the low-slung visor and wondered if the visors had night-vision capabilities. There were other beings near to the entrance (the Falleen and Twi'lek for example), but law enforcement here tended to assume that all other humans would cooperate with them, just _because_. "Are you sure it wasn't another tapcaf?"

"It was _this_ tapcaf."

The other Espo began hauling aliens from the booths and slamming the patrons roughly up against the walls, mashing their faces into the driprot all the while barking questions and commands. Across from him, Leia sipped casually from her green Pica Thundercloud. Han said resolutely, "No one new has come in here since we arrived about half an hour ago."

They ransacked the tapcaf anyway.

Trying to prevent his mind from wandering into the '_you know what will happen if they identify you section'_, Han nursed his ale, prayed they didn't find a way to make the place any brighter or look under their table, and tried to keep his preoccupation with lump at his feet to a minimum. A few times he contemplated making a quick exit with Leia, but he knew Espo squads usually traveled in groups of eight and only six were inside. That meant two were probably outside waiting for anyone to try and escape. There was nothing to do but wait and watch the Yarkora spit and haw at the man who searched them. The entire time the commander in charge stood beside their booth and surveyed the ongoing mayhem. No one ever looked beneath their table and no one bothered to interrogate them. Their proximity to the commander created the illusion that they were under his control.

Finally, after what felt like hours, a minor squad-member returned to the front end of the circular bar. "No one here saw it, Sir."

"No one?"

"Maybe this wasn't the place."

"It _was_ this place." The commander slapped at his blast-vest. "I saw it! Damn it. Tell the barkeep he'll be spending the next month trying to piece this cosmic craphole back together square by square. Impeding an investigation is a Class C infraction!"

"Sir?" The trooper apologetically, almost fearfully, made an obeisant gesture with his right hand. "With all due respect, I really don't think it could have come in here. At least one of them would be ruffling its fur or feathers or would have sold it out. We just threatened to seal the place up and start a picket search for soft merchandise and spice. No one's coming forward."

(_Them._ Han had actually forgotten how limited their terminology could be when it came to other species. There were only three humanoids the CSA recognized as equal to humans - the Duros, Twi'lek and Vaathkree. There were at least a dozen other species in the establishment).

The commander grunted and resumed glaring at Han and Leia. "You're absolutely sure you didn't see anything."

"No Sir. You have my word as an Imperial-" A clunk sounded from beneath the table. Leia let her goblet drop and pretended to catch it just before it fell over. "General," Han finished, putting his hand over his heart. "On the Emperor's ashes, may the spirits rest his soul."

"General?" Respect and admiration was written all over the commander's face.

Han gave the creature a light kick of warning. "Yes, Sir."

"Why didn't you speak up earlier? Well General, if you don't mind my saying so, there are much finer places to go for a drink."

"Well, I would have but I-"

"It's me." Leia stared up at him with doe-eyed innocence. "I've never been to an alien establishment," she breathed huskily. "This is my first voyage off-planet, you see."

"It's all the dregs of the factory workers trying to pass themselves off as sentients. You'll learn soon enough, my dear. Take my word for it." With a final sigh of frustration, the commander waved off the proceedings. The squadron streamed back into the streets with far less fanfare than when they had arrived.

Leia's anger was a rising flush across her cheeks. "Are they all like that?"

"Bumbling idiots who regard all other life-forms with less regard than automatons? In some places, pretty much."

"What utter… _barbarians_," she spat out.

"Take it easy Sweetheart."

"What are we going to do with him?"

"I'll tell you what you can do?" Two smouldering flameouts slammed down on their table. The bartender turned a vicious scowl on them. "Drink up. On the house. Get him out from under there and don't come back. I don't know what kind of stunt you thought you were pulling."

Han lifted one shot-glass and gulped the contents down in one swallow without mixing it. Hot and cold fire seared his tongue and throat pleasurably. "You could have told them where he was," he suggested matter-of-factly. "But I suppose that would be bad for business, now wouldn't it?"

"I still might go call them back. Now finish up."

Han waited until the barkeep stomped off, then slouched over and aimed his words beneath the table. Until that moment he hadn't made a conscience decision to assist the mysterious creature hiding by his boots. He'd only been following his instincts. Now he wasn't quite sure _what_ to do. "Will that veil cover all of you if we all walk out of here."

The reply was a squeak. "Yes."

"They might be out there," Leia warned.

Han shook his head, torn between wondering if he was going soft or simply genuinely got off on stultifying local law enforcement. "They would have gone ahead with a complete shakedown if they wanted him that badly. They won't waste time sticking around." He lifted the second flameout and clinked it against her goblet. "Cheers."

A quarter of an hour later when Leia slipped from the booth, no one noticed her veil hobbling ahead of her in the darkness. Han followed behind them. Once on the street, the creature started whispering, "This way, this way," and skittered down a lane-way with a distinct sense of purpose and direction. When they had gone three city blocks, it stopped and pulled off the coverings.

For the first time they both got a good look at what they'd been protecting. The wintry furred creature was a Talz, a mid-sized humanoid from Alzoc III. Talz had two sets of eyes that were used for night and day respectively. They could see just as well in the dark as they could in the light. Steadfast and patient workers, the Empire had enslaved them and sold them as mineworkers throughout the Corporate Sector. Slavery was illegal on Bonadan however, so Han guessed that this one lived here and had gotten itself into some minor trouble with the law enforcement. It wasn't armed and wore only a functional belt equipped with an array of storage pouches.

"Thank you, thank you," it professed, returning the veil to its rightful owner and brushing the floor grime from its fur in an attempt to reclaim some dignity. It paused and rolled its bulbous lower night-time eyes up and down at Han. Then it twittered, "You're an _Imperial_-"

"Like hell I am."

"May the spirits rest his soul," Leia muttered under her breath. "By the heavens, where did you come up with that?"

Han leaned against a sleek state-of-the-art garbage compactor. "I have a creative side."

"I didn't do anything wrong," The Talz insisted.

"Of course not," Han returned, less than convincingly apparently, for the creature fluffed out its fur and rolled its lower set of eyes again. "Why else would an entire squadron of Espo be after you?"

"I speak the truth."

"Why were they chasing you?" Leia asked.

The Talz twittered and patted the largest pouch dangling from his belt. "I just delivered a formal summons to the captain of the district Espo for a hearing on claims of abuse toward a non-human worker."

Han snorted before he finished the sentence.

The Talz nodded vehemently. "You may not believe it but we're making great headway in terms of equal rights here. Anyway, you're both off-warders? It's no consequence to you."

Han held up a hand. "More so than you believe. What was going on back _there_?"

"The squadron Commander knew we were coming for him. Hadn't been home from his headquarters in days." The creature dug around in its pouch and withdrew a palmprint pad. "This is what they were after. I tricked him into pressing for it. Now that I have this if he doesn't appear at the hearings he'll be stripped of his CSA badge and suspended until hearings are over. It's the law. The Bonadan Board of Directors passed it just last year."

Han snorted again, unable to conceal his jaded cynicism. "What are the odds he'll be convicted at a trial?"

"Ten to one." The creature sighed to itself. "The judicial systems need to catch up with the law, and the law is only interested in protecting the economy." It pointed to itself. "We're too valuable to the economy for them to ignore us anymore. We comprise sixty percent of the workforce. We _are_ the backbone of the economy here. That's what they're beginning to see." It tucked the palmprint pad safely away. "I'm indebted to you. Had they caught me, I'd be facing extradition to the subterranean detention centers hidden in the desert, or worse, sent to a penal labour colony. If there's anything I can do to repay you, no favour is too great."

"If you're delivering a summons," Han cut in, "then you must work for-"

"A Pleader." The creature jerked its furry chin to the side and extended a thickly padded pink claw. "Assistant to the High Pleader Warrick Treesh at your service. They call me Houk Awouk."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Houk Awouk," Leia replied, pumping the claw up and down.

Han smiled broadly and shook his head in wonder. "Say, the Pleaders here wouldn't have access to all ongoing cases on planet would they."

"You mean the Central Registry?"

_Well I'll be damned_. "The Central Registry," he repeated. "Yeah. That's it."

Houk Awouk rolled his lower eyes and smacked his paws together. "We do, we _do_."

Han's smile spread wider. He stuck out his hand too. "Then I'm Han Solo and I'm looking for some friends who are in trouble. I could sure use your help."


	5. Chapter 5

After one morning in the massive underground mallplexes and duty-free district, Leia was ready to collapse in a heap and summon a robo-hack sled to take her back their hotel.

Posing again as an Aquellan woman again, she spent a few credits, mainly on necessities. Any opportunity to find trousers that fit was worth the milling crowds, as were bodysuits, singlets, underclothing and soft wool sweaters – things that bordered the fine line between luxury items and items she was forever in _need_ of but never took the time to buy. She also bought a plain shift made of gauzy sky-coloured linen, similar to the ones she'd seen the local women wearing, thinking it might be useful to have native wear. Although she'd wanted to buy something for Han, the only consistent style he maintained was an intense loathing for things that were _new_. Since she didn't see any places selling used goods or goods that had been purposely crafted to look old, she settled for browsing through the type of frippery that she hadn't owned since the start of the war. As it so happened, Bonadan specialized in manufacturing gowns of Ramordian silk, a precious fibre spun by rare moths on the Ramorda Moon. After some deliberation, Leia settled for splurging on a navy clingsilk dress with spiraling braided patterns that she knew Han would love. It would be wise to have formal clothing in case the occasion presented itself. The few gowns she owned were back with the fleet, and they were all either replicas of her senatorial gowns or strictly earmarked for diplomatic events.

Upon purchasing the dress, Leia headed for the exist, bypassing the many relaxation stations where the average shopper might enjoy food, beverages, stimulants or gases, or services such as foot and tentacle massages, claw de-scaling, horn polishing and fur grooming. The thick smell of alien perfumes, tobacco products and institutional cleaning agents irritated her. While the subterranean mezzanines were spacious, they weren't spacious enough to accommodate the thousands that had arrived with the _Kuari Pri_ncess the day before - who had all apparently decided to go on their shopping sprees at the _exact _same time (she suspected Han had known this, and surreptitiously urged her on without him in order to avoid it). She returned to the _Novaplex_ and dropped off her bags, drew her veil up over her face and set off on a personal mission.

Leia had tried, unsuccessfully, to convince herself not to go to the Alderaanian Sector but the holosigns marked with the official planetary seal had been beckoning to her since the previous evening.

The quarter was quiet, only about ten by fifteen blocks square, and marked by small gardens nurturing plant life that had obviously been imported years ago. There were curving hydenocks, massive uwa, and even a few killels. Ladalums and t'ils grew aplenty too, along with countless species of Alderaan's eight thousand native plants and flowers. The majority of white, smooth-stoned dwellings were set gently back off the main thoroughfares and boasted the all too familiar liquid-polymer atriums that peered skyward. It was just the way many homes had built them on Alderaan. There had even been entire cities on her homeworld encased in the sealing glass, concealed from the harshest elements in that manner. It looked like an amorphous section of Alderaan had been stuck smack down along the city outskirts. The transplanted natives had taken pains to merge much of the Alderaanian ecology with Bonadan's native species and the effect was quite beautiful.

Her mind's quiet and unalerting perception amazed her. As she neared the Embassy, Leia had no idea how many signs in her household tongue she'd passed and read without realizing it. Or how many conversations she overheard before recognized that they weren't in Basic. Of the thousand or so Alderaanians with the Alliance, only a few dozen spoke the same dialect she did and as it happened, the embassy districts always used the dialect spoken by the Royal Family.

The Embassy itself was clean and crisp, and merged easily with its surrounding. The only form of security setting it apart from the others was a two-meter wide channel full of wiggling domesticated silvery glimmerfish shining in the afternoon sun. The channel curved around and behind the building and was guarded by a low stone wall that rippled like waves. Leia concluded after a moment's inspection that the channel provided little in the way of security after all; a seal of liquid polymer, barely visible to the casual eye, covered it completely. It was simply an aesthetic touch, and a way of paying homage to Alderaan's traditions. Each spring when the glimmerfish eggs had hatched, the tiny fish had swarmed the canals and inlets outside of Aldera. Holidays and celebrations had marked the occasion; they'd called the period the _Silver Flow_. It had been a fine way to celebrate the end of the mild winter, to celebrate rebirth and the coming summer. Now one could deny that the celebrations had ever existed.

_It would have spring in Aldera this time of year_, Leia thought. _It would have… _

It was one thing to be held up as a political symbol, a high-profile member of the cause, to stand beside leaders like Mon Mothma and labour beneath their mantle of leadership. It would be quite another to surrender the rest of her life working to make sure Alderaan was remembered in this new government. It would be quite another to stake her political claim in the name of the refugees and displaced persons scattered across the galaxy, for the bitter ghosts of lives lost then and since - if she was up to the task. She needed to know if she was strong enough to face this, to face _them_.

She took a deep breath and proceeded to take an emotional inventory, trying to gauge what she was feeling inside. With the veil gathered safely around her features, she could stare open-mouthed, weep, eye the enclave of permanently displaced Alderaanian natives with the sort of nostalgia reserved for holos of the dead or letters from soured love affairs. But she didn't. Instead, she wondered how long it took before the urge to migrate was driven from glimmerfish, how it was that they could be content to go in circles around the embassy. Then she considered that perhaps that was the trick, after all, to have them move in an endless circle. Perhaps their miniscule brains never registered that they'd passed the same place a thousand times.

Standing there, Leia grew keenly aware of how _foreign_ the setting appeared to her. Over the past three years, she'd not been to a single solitary world with an Alderaanian quarter.

Most of the time she didn't have the mental or emotional energy to _try_ and remember. The everyday occurrences that made life navigable gnawed at her enough to curb the urge. A passer-by anywhere might look like her primary tutor, the local flame-rose florist, a friend of her fathers, her aunt's bodyguard. Once upon a time she'd paused to wonder, but eventually she'd broken herself of the habit. She knew _when_ everyone had died, _where_ and _how_. The answer was always the same. There was little point to contemplating history as it had assembled itself.

It was getting easier and easier to forget.

Not surprisingly, the very part of her she was trying to awaken denied her access. The sight of the Embassy was neither comforting nor as painful as she'd expected, although her imagination she'd always pictured this moment as overly emotional, as though having a _place_ to focus her grief would someone allow it to come unfettered.

Instead, there was a vague sense of danger and fear combined with something darker, present. She almost _feared_ it.

Impulsively, Leia followed the curving stone until it broke apart and took a step out onto the polymer bridge that led toward the Embassy's main entrance. She looked down at her feet and studied the silvery bodies moving beneath. They swam faster and faster until their motion was one long steady stream of color. Suddenly, the flashing stream was the _Falcon,_ drenched in an eerily luminous glow, flying low over sand flats and sparse growth. It was firing continuously at an unseen target and at the same time, an efflux of laser fire was exploding off her port flank.

_Where_, Leia thought, craning her neck, for it was odd indeed to watch a spacecraft flying from an upper vantage-point. Yet the _Falcon_ flew beneath her.

_How? _

A gusting sweeper storm, identical to the one they'd seen from the shuttle yesterday, brewed on the horizon. To Leia's horror, the _Falcon_ headed straight for it, almost purposefully. She watched as the storm doubled and then tripled in size, hoping that Han would swerve and avoid it but at the last moment three low-atmosphere headhunters and a pair of interceptors sneaked out from behind the storm and forced the _Falcon_ to maintain her course. The storm reached out to take her in its electric embrace, and then the ship became a fireball… The fireball was sucked skyward into the unknown. Far off, almost like an echo, Leia heard herself screaming.

The words came from nowhere.

_If you fire at them you will only make them stronger. _

_That's what they want. _

_It's a trick._

She heard them in her mind's voice but did not what they meant. She lifted her head in a wild panic until she could see the sun through her eyelids from beneath the veil. One fist clutched at her skirt; her white knuckles jutted out like the jagged shale bits that protected the bed of uwa and t'ils and other wildflowers whose names she could not remember. The other fist remained inside her pocket, groping for her comlink. She had to warn Han that he was in danger. She had to warn him that he was going to die unless…

Unless what?

The _Falcon_ wasn't even on Bonadan, she recalled suddenly, sagging weak-legged with relief as though she'd just woken up from one of her nightmares and found herself in the security of her own bed. But what she'd seen had been _here, _on this planet, just past the Trade City spaceport toward the mines. Confused, Leia stayed a few breaths longer. Had the Force touched her? _Or_, it occurred to her next, perhaps when Han had been on Bonadan before he had miraculously survived a near-cataclysmic disaster – perhaps she was seeing _his _past.

The _Millennium Falcon_ was hot property after all; he'd admitted that to her already. Perhaps he'd not been honest with her last night, for it had been Trade City on the horizon and not the Southeast Spaceport.

Leia released her skirts and dropped her chin to her chest, only to see the moving mass of silver coming undone beneath her feet. The water itself was yet another window; the inner sides of the channel were nothing more than a membrane protecting the embassy's lower level offices. She caught glimpse of a dark-eyed man with knee-length hair staring intently through the polymer and water. He looked up briefly and went to touch a finger to his forehead in greeting but the running fish concealed him again.

Leia waited another minute for them to break up again. When they did, the man was gone but she saw what it was that he had been staring at.

Someone had torched the bottom of the channel to form words, although she had no idea how it was possible.

_Burn, Alderaan, Burn_.

Feeling ill, Leia turned away with her fists clenched so tightly it was a wonder her own bones didn't shatter. Had she known who had scrawled the horrid sentiment, she would have killed them then and there.

She wasn't sure how she found her way back to the _Novaplex_, but she did, agitated and full of corybantic energy.

Han hadn't returned from his errand and she hoped he hadn't run into any difficulties. The information Houk Awouk had recovered from the Central Registry had not been reassuring. Doc and Jessa simply weren't in it.

"There are two possibilities I might suggest," the Talz had informed them. "One; the case was settled before they registered with a Pleader here – which happens very often. If as you say, they were arrested on Vaynai, they may have acquired legal counsel there."

"Maybe," Han had said. "Doc always had enough credits hidden away to pay for things like that. What's the second?"

"They died in custody before it went to trial."

Han's face had gone rather pale. "Or three," he had hastened to say. "Someone erased the records."

_Or four; they were never in there to begin with_, Leia added privately but she'd known Han was thinking it too and refrained from saying it aloud.

Overwhelmed with the desire to vigorously press her muscles until they ached, run until her lungs burned, or do something that was either physically exhausting or loud and destructive, Leia decided to wash the Aquellan patters from the backs of her arms. She searched through her travel case until she found the cleansing solution that came with the temporary dye. Then she scrubbed the ink until her forearms were newborn pink, wondering _why_ Han would lie. It was a petty detail, but just the same it pricked at her incomprehensibly.

Han returned just after she'd changed into the gauzy shift and was worrying that it didn't suit her. She heard the door click, and stepped into the main room where she found him eyeing the two remaining bags.

"I thought women were supposed to love shopping," he declared. "This is it?"

Leia straightened the shift at her shoulders and tried to quell the 'why are you late?' and 'who shot at you?' expression. "I wasn't in the mood today. It was extremely crowded and very busy."

"As I figured." He set his keycard on entrance table, stretched and ran a hand over the severe haircut, looking pleased with himself. "It's a go for tomorrow."

"The meeting with the Authority Direx?"

"Just after noon, local time."

"I'm going as back-up," she declared in her most official tone. "You're not going to the Authority Tower alone."

Much to her surprise, Han didn't even attempt to argue. Instead he came and brushed his lips across her cheek. "Did you eat yet?"

"No."

"We can order in? Or go out?"

Han left her to consider while he retreated to the conforming lounge and activated the entertainment unit. The flat-screened information bureau was built into the wall and two-sided so that one could access it from either just inside their bedroom or the main room. Leia tapped the panels and called up the _Novaplex_ menu but she lacked the enthusiasm to pick and choose from the elaborate assortment of foreign delicacies, most of which would normally start her mouth watering. _Look at me and wonder why I'm upset, _she wailed silently with frustration._ Or can you not see it?_ Visions of the _Falcon_ flying into the sweeper storm again returned reluctantly. A restless shiver ran down her spine.

But Han was whistling excitedly, having just discovered a live _Bonadan Blasters_ game. The shockball team was the most popular in the galaxy despite the fact that they'd never won a major tournament and rarely played outside the Sector.

Folding her hands together, she cleared her throat.

"Did you decide?" Han called.

"Han?"

"Uh huh?"

"I'm curious about something."

Most species would have interpreted the reply as a sign that he was more interested in the sports coverage that what she was saying. Leia was no different. She sighed loudly and pressed her spine to the holo-screen with her elbows in either hand. It was another full minute before Han sacrificed a moment of zigzagging shockball play long enough to ask, "What is it?"

"Trade City," she blurted out. "You've been here before."

That got his attention finally. "No, I've never been here before." He stared at her as if to ascertain that he was hearing correctly. "What in the galaxy would give you that idea?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"When you were here last. Why you would lie to me."

"I never was here." Han tightened the corners of his mouth and patted the wing of the conform couch. "I have nothing to tell you."

For a moment, Leia wondered whether or not the _nothing_ meant, 'It's my right to tell what I see fit', or truly _nothing_. She concluded that he meant the latter and ducked back into their bedroom suite. It wasn't like her to doubt him. If she could just forget what she'd seen…

Han was quick to follow and rebuke her. "What the hell is this about?"

"I apologize. I shouldn't have suggested that you lied."

Unfortunately, her efforts toward peace came out tinged with an air of highborn training. It was a defensive habit she was unable to shake and one that vexed Han to no end.

("If I'm going to argue with you I'd prefer you not address me like I'm some Imperial delegate from the Outer Rim," he had groaned recently, toward the end of the heated discussion, the origins of which Leia could no longer recall. "Try profanity. Call me names, whatever you want. Don't play diplomat in my stateroom." She had responded with a stream of Alderaanian curses so filthy that her adopted father would locked her away for merely committing them to memory. Han had smiled merrily and said, "Now we're getting somewhere with this fight, Sweetheart.")

Today, the matter at hand wasn't as easy to drop; she could see a scowl forming on Han's lips and struggled to keep her lambasted pride about her. "I regret asking."

"_Ahh_…You regret..." Han thumped the wall with his fist disapprovingly, wearing his, 'I'm losing my patience' expression. "Leia, I hate that. _Don't_."

"Don't what?"

The Corellian ushered back her up against the edge of the bed and left her no retreat. She remained standing but placed her palms down against the lumpy coverlet and silken sheets. They had declined the maid service; the bed was as they had left it this morning, a tumble of covers and pillows.

"If this is one of those things where I you think I did something and I'm supposed to know and you've just dropped ten hints I didn't pick up." Han pointed at himself. "Well I _didn't_ pick any up. And now I'll wind up apologizing and I'll have no idea what for and when you figure out I have no idea what for you're going to get mad all over again-"

"Oh, _Han_." It was impossible not to love him; lethally handsome with his sheared hair and crinkling laugh lines, stumbling through his own private psychology of the opposite sex. "If that happens you have every right to get mad back at me."

"Then what is it?"

"It was nothing."

"You wouldn't be insinuating that I lied to you if was nothing."

"No. No I wouldn't…" Leia exhaled and lowered her eyelashes, twining her fingers in the bedcovers. She supposed she should tell him what she'd done except that she felt like it was all very personal. Volunteering her feelings to him about it felt strange to her. Additionally, no matter how much she wanted to, no matter how guilty she felt keeping it from him, she _couldn't_ tell him she'd seen the _Falcon_ exploding in the upper atmosphere of Bonadan outside of the city. It would disturb him and he needed his full focus for tomorrow. Anyway, she reassured herself that it wasn't going to happen. His ship wasn't here and she intended to keep him near her for every second of the rest of this trip, until he found answers or Jessa and Doc were safe. The explanation she settled on was only half the truth but she knew Han would accept it. "I'm having difficulty sorting out my own curiosity and instincts from perceptions that are more… in tune with the Force," she explained falteringly. "Now that I know I'm connected to it the same way Luke is, I'm having moments where I can recognize it guiding me quite vividly. And others where it's muddied and I can't discern whether or not it's strictly _me_."

Much to her surprise, the lines around his mouth softened. "Oh no. You're going all Luke-like on me."

"A little bit," she confessed, with less trepidation. "But without any know-how on how to control it. I thought I saw… a few things here on Bonadan have felt familiar to me. I couldn't tell if they were familiar to me because of something I was picking up from you, or if the familiarity was something more. I'll ask Luke about it when we get back to Endor. I didn't mean to accuse you of being dishonest." Leia cupped her hands along the sides of her throat, feeling weary. She pressed her fingertips into the cords below her hairline. "I have another confession. I visited the Alderaanian quarter when I finished shopping. I made sure no one recognized me. Don't worry."

"Well…" Han swallowed noisily, and made an _ahem_ sound under his breath. "It's not like you've every listened to me before. I thought you might go."

"Oh." The Princess wondered how he could have known that, when she hadn't. She described the neighbourhood to him and told him about the torched etchings at the bottom of the glimmerfish moat. Han said political leanings in the Corporate Sector were all over the boards and that the Empire had its fair share of supporters. She wondered why they hadn't repaired it.

"The _fish_," Han said, as if that explained it all.

Leia regarded him, puzzled.

"It's probably some type of fragile ecosystem. Maybe they don't have anywhere to move them."

She contemplated that for a spell. Han dropped into his customary fumbling mode, the way he did when he was trying to think of how to word his thoughts or concerned that his choice of wording might come across clumsily. She'd noticed that he did that recently, and only ever with her, which was sweet in a very disarming way. He inquired about how she'd felt.

"It wasn't what I expected," she said.

"What did you expect?"

_That I would drop to my knees sobbing… that I would drop to my knees and beg them to forgive me_… "I don't know."

"You probably were steeling yourself against feeling much of anything every step of the way there without even knowing it."

"Perhaps," she murmured, still unable to imagine that there was anything so ecologically sensitive about the channel of glimmerfish that the message couldn't be removed. _There are ways to take precautions; there are ways to keep everything sterile. _She wiped the back of her hand across her face, conscious of Han gazing down at her. _You were raised to be a pacifist… and heavens help you – you would kill over a few words…_ "I don't know."

"Come here."

"Why?"

Han gathered her into his arms and they felt wonderfully comforting and strong around her. "Just because…"

She was promptly overcome by an urge to weep into the folds of his jacket like a child. Not for fault of a memory or an identifiable cause of sadness or even the absence of Alderaan, but because for the first time in three years there was someone there to comfort her in private.

The darkened cabin on the _Falcon _where they'd been staying all these weeks was a world away from the spacious suite with sunlight showering down over them both. At a thousand credits a night, Han Solo genuinely had no compunctions about sitting out half the day in their hotel room and missing the Trade City sights. Besides, dark moods and lovemaking came together in very natural synergy; emotions only heightened the body's responses. Although the physical act was in essence the same as it always was, the motivation for it was not. It had been a long time since Han had comforted a woman by making love to her; he'd taken Leia gently rather than with the intensity that had controlled them both on the long flight to the Sector or even the night before.

This was a side to her he didn't know; not the tough and determined fighter who could command battalions and lead diplomatic receptions on which the fate of five systems might rest at once, but a woman who came undone like everyone else and needed him.

Now he was rubbing her back while she lay fitted against him and made all sorts of appreciative sounds.

"If I had known how good you were with your hands, I might have taken you up on your offer in the hallway on Hoth after all."

They were her first coherent words in half an hour.

"Sure you would have." Han summoned a mental image of Leia wearing her Hoth whites, prim and proper with her tight wrap-around braids and _angry_ regal look on, while he stood outside her quarters holding a vial of massage lotion. "Nice of you to say now, but if we were on Hoth, and I showed up and said, 'Your Highness I'm here for your mid-afternoon massage. Just take off your shirt and lie down on please-'"

Leia laughed softly. "I'd probably have told you to go ply your trade in _Rogue Squadron's_ locker room for spare credits."

"Spare credits huh?" Instantly, Han ceased the ministrations on the muscles beneath her shoulder. "I should be charging you now. What is the going rate for a masseuse these days?"

Leia lifted her cheek from the silk coverlet and considered his query carefully, looking more like a contented feline from Orryxia than a princess or diplomat. The curves of her mouth and cheeks were dark and flushed. "Do you think anyone heard us?"

"You mean _you_? No." He leaned down and spoke into her hair. "These types of places usually have layer upon layer of soundproofing."

"I won't ask why you sound so sure."

"Huh. Nah, don't."

"Huh," she repeated, fidgeting away and turning onto her stomach. "I always liked the way you say that. As if you're actually _thinking_."

"Always?" Han began feeling pleased with himself, imagining his effect on her a year ago, on Hoth or even before that. "When you were in love with me and acted like you hated me?"

"I was not always in love with you."

"Suit yourself."

"I was not."

"I could tell." He opened his mouth as though he were on the verge of arguing passionately, then abruptly he shrugged indifferently. "Luke could tell."

Leia bolted upright. "I was _not_ and stop smiling at me like that before I…before I…" She groped for an oval pillow. "Before I smother you to death with… with this very expensive piece of bedding."

It was a reflex. "_Huh_."

"Solo, you're asking for it."

The black shiny object looming over head couldn't have scared off his next comment if it had been covered with Tatooinian stinging ants and poisoned spikes. "Well now I know all I need to say is 'huh', I _will_." He grinned. "And _often_."

The intended smack didn't catch him full on. Just the corner tassels, which were beaded with some sort of metal and stung his forehead. Han caught one wrist just as it swung down toward him for the second hit, snatched the pillow from her hands and flung it out of reach, then managed to catch the other wrist before she could recover or grab another soft weapon. Instinctively, he kicked up a leg around her waist and twisted his full weight on top on her, pinioning her arms above her head and chuckling to himself. Growling at the back of throat, Han descended on her like a crazed Wookiee about to devour her, rubbing the day's fresh stubble along the undersides of her upper arms.

She shrieked vigorously.

"By the way Sweetheart," he paused to explain, feeling freshly stirred to arousal by the soft bare skin beneath him, "had I ever actually gone to your quarters to give you a massage, I would have done my damnedest to seduce you."

"I actually _always_ knew that about you," she panted defiantly. "Don't look so smug. Anything with a reproductive system and estrogen knew that. You wouldn't have gotten two steps inside my quarters."

"That's because you knew what would happen."

"I never considered anything of the sort happening."

But she said that after a moment's hesitation and a touch defensively.

"I think you did," he said.

"Did you?"

"Absolutely." Instantly, her mouth curled with pleased curiosity. Han marvelled over the fact that naturally, she'd rather face a firing squad than admit she'd thought about sleeping with him, but on the other hand was positively delighted to know that he had. The discussion was getting more interesting by the second. "So did you ever act on it?" he asked.

"On what?"

"Your carefully suppressed desire to go to bed with me."

Leia rolled her eyes with mock frustration. "I can see plain as day where this conversation is headed. You want me to describe-"

"Ah. Ah. Ah. That's not it. Describe is an understatement." Han knew he had her. "I was thinking along the lines of a demonstration."

"Oh… damn it." She broke into a fit of sputtering laughter and then she couldn't catch her breath beneath him. She began gasping for air. "Get off me."

Reluctantly, Han released the slender pair of wrists from his locked grip and eased over to the side. He leaned up into the point of his elbow. "So?"

"Honestly, I thought about you constantly when you were gone." She pushed herself into a semi-sitting position. Han languorously admired the sloping curve of her breasts until his hand was driven to follow his eye. "I thought of you and I wanted you and I dreamed about you. All I ever thought about was getting you back. I was fearful for you and what you were going through, how you might suffer later from the effects of the carbonization." She swallowed. "I was afraid of all we hadn't done and what I was feeling."

Han dropped his hand and forced a nonchalant grin that didn't come easily and wouldn't fool Leia. To tell the truth, he was never sure whether or not he'd imagined her during that period. Bits and pieces of his memory insisted he had. It might all have been those last few seconds before he'd descended into the carbon freeze chamber. It was all a series of blurred images mixed with memories of searing pain. "You didn't lose me."

Leia wilted back onto the bed. "Do you see why you had to bring me with you here? Why I had to come?"

"I thought it had something to do with a threat to go to Command?"

"You have trouble sleeping," she countered quietly.

"Not when you're in my bed."

"We don't do much sleeping at all."

"That's all your fault."

Leia smiled and shook her head with resignation. "You don't want to be serious, do you?"

"No." Han rubbed at his forehead where the beads had hit him.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah." He feigned an elaborate wince. "A lot."

She leaned over and pressed her moist lips to the sore spot. "I did dream about you."

"You're making this up because you injured me."

"You're hardly injured. And no, I'm not making it up. It was around the time we were stationed at Oracle Base."

Oracle Base had an out-of-control mould problem, if he remembered correctly, and had also supplied the Tauntauns for Hoth. In general, it had smelled like a giant breeding pen. Han was riveted all the same. "What happened?"

"We were sitting outside the Northeast entrance behind those huge pre-fab shipping containers – remember those?"

"The rusty ones that no one ever bothered to dismantle?"

"Yes, those. We were hiding there, behind the last one and the gulch. We were sitting in the grass unarmed and you thought it was terribly funny."

"What were we hiding from?"

"I have no idea." Leia crawled over his chest and straddled him.

"I'm starting to like this dream."

"I thought you would."

Han smoothed her hair out of her face and stroked her back with his fingers. "But I don't think you dreamed this part at all."

"No." She rested her chin inside of his shoulder and sucked at the skin above his collarbone. "We never made it this far."

By then, he had hardened almost unendurably against the inside of her thigh and he helped her to raise and lower herself over him. Inside she felt like pulsing fluid velvet; Han fought the urge to take her by the hips and thrust upward against her. "But I must've done something."

"You did." Smiling secretively, she fluttered like something warm and liquid, shifting until she fit over him comfortably, posed the way a small child might sleep, with both knees half-straightened.

"You're not going to tell me what, are you?"

And suddenly she was sniffling. "No."

"Hey. Did-"

"I'm just so happy."

"Really?"

"Yes." She turned her face away from his collarbone and kissed him open-mouthed, beginning to rock softly forward and back, her hair falling like her discarded Aquellan veil across his face.

It took a moment for Han to decide whether or not to believe her, and then he began kissing her back, tracing his fingers between them to see what touches affected her. That until it was nearly dark and she locked her elbows rigidly, half-raised above him, knees and lips quivering, and only then did he pitch her over onto her back and let go.

Han was having his doubts about bringing her again.

The plan was simple. The main floor of the Authority Tower also housed the Bonadan Intergalactic Art Museum. Leia would purchase a museum pass and tour the gallery. Han would meet with the Direx on an upper level. If everything went well, he would simply collect her on his way out of the complex. If anything went wrong, his comlink was set to warn her with the slightest squeeze to leave. If he didn't contact her or return within two hours, she was to assume the worst and do the same. Before they'd left the _Novaplex_, they'd gone over the what-to-do-in-case-of scenario dozens of times. "Hire a transport to take you to Reltooine, take the _Falcon_ back to the Alliance and get help," he had told her flat out. "Don't even _think_ about doing anything crazy."

Unfortunately, Leia had agreed with all the sincerity of a ronto pup ordered not to snatch a traladon steak off the table when her master left the room. Calrissian would have followed orders; he was too much of a coward to stage a one-man rescue mission and too broke after losing the Tibanna gas mines on Bespin to afford local assistance. Leia _would_ do something crazy like bribe a band of local Nikto mercenaries to break him out with every credit voucher she had to her name – and if that didn't work she would attempt to do it herself.

Needless to say, he had absolutely no intention of contacting her if anything didgo wrong. Nor was it ever an option. When he stepped out from the dropshaft, Security immediately seized and searched him. They scanned his credentials and personal effects, then 'borrowed' everything he carried with reassurances that all personal possessions would be returned when the meeting concluded.

Then they escorted him to the Direx's office to wait.

Three walls of the office were white and bleak. The fourth hosted a solitary window that overlooked the desert plains and sparse vegetation. Before it rested a massive hardwood desk covered with consoles, control tabs and input hook-ups for all types of technological equipment. A set of bookshelves sat to the right, filled with hardbound titles such as _Minds and Perceptions: A Comparative Study of Persuasive Techniques During the Galactic Civil War, _by Ulm-Aaa-Janzikek and _Fear Tactics and Government_. There was an entire series by Triplanetary Press. _Psychological Terrorism on the Home Front: An Independent Study on Ten Different Species_. Before the window and bookshelves. Proudly on display to the left of the window were framed sets of popular Sector consumer slogans.

"_Let us be thankful we have commerce. Buy more. Buy more now and be happy_."

"_Even the smallest revolution has the power to corrupt all and affect profits_."

"_I spend…therefore I am_."

The xenophobic men who governed the Corporate Sector had learned firsthand during the initial occupation that insurgencies (and those who rebelled against the Authority) needed to be squashed with the utmost of force in order to keep up the relentless drive of production. They were relentlessly paranoid and better organized than Palpatine's Royal Guard. Men and women who didn't take the Sector's core principles to heart didn't advance within the system; they weren't promoted through the ranks if they didn't play the game. Because of this, although a great many of the Authority leaders might once have been honest and good-natured men, few of those who ultimately retained their power actually were. Han wondered where creatures such as Houk Awouk dug up enough faith to believe that they could change an entire way of life from the ground floor up.

No sooner had the idle reflection crossed his mind than the door snapped opened. In came a stodgy bureaucratic-looking man with long peppered whiskers, sporting a fine tailored jacket and knee-high boots.

Han held out his hand. "Kylus. General Kylus," only to discover that he was reaching for a limb that wasn't there. The sleeve of the Direx's jacket was there all right, but tucked into the edge of his belt, flat as a tuber-cake and neatly pinned at the elbow. Quickly, Han snapped his right hand back and stuck out his left.

"Direx Ferron." The man shook his hand briskly with a trace if laconic amusement in his eyes, as if that sort of mix-up happened to him all the time. It probably did. "An Imperial General are you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How many years active?"

"Twenty."

"That's something," Ferron murmured to himself wistfully, (in such a way that had Han wondering if he'd lost his arm early on in his career). "We've all heard the news regarding the Emperor of course."

"We're holding our own," Solo replied, trying to sound as though he _cared_ in the stoic, dutiful sense of the word. The security director might be blithely impressed at having an Imperial veteran present, but in Han's experience, most Corporate servicemen were blissfully unconcerned with the Empire's close tabs on their operations. They wouldn't bother asking about specific Imperial cells located in the outskirts of star systems bordering the Sector because they didn't need to worry about it. The Imperial Navy would have to quadruple, even quintuple itself in order to stage an effective assault against the CSA – and those were calculations left over from _before_ the Alliance had decimated a substantial portion of their naval fleet over Endor.

Still, with identification labelling him as an Imperial General, Han was automatically entitled to a certain amount of affability, which in turn lent itself to full-fledged curiosity.

"Were you at Endor General?"

"I was."

It turned out that Ferron had watched a holovid of the battle days ago, and was eager to discuss the technical details with someone who'd _been_ there. That Han had led an away team planetside and missed the actual stellar engagements was of no consequence. On the way to Reltooine he'd studied the _Millennium Falcon's_ logs; her computer systems had recorded the battle in both texdoc and holo form.

Some time later they were comparing notes on space combat.

"There's nothing like seeing a Trilon Assault Fighter go up against a Corellian headhunter," Ferron boasted. "We used to see it all the time during border skirmishes with the Tionese patrols."

"If you don't mind my saying so," Han ventured, eager to get the audition part of the meeting over with, "There's no skill to it. It's all automated weapon systems and who has the biggest shield system and the fastest navi-computer. A pair of snubfighters wing to wing, nose to tail, adrenaline pumping through your veins – there's the true test of pilot and fighter, guts and focus under pressure."

Ferron contemplated the declaration for a moment. "You have a point. Not many live to tell about it."

"No." Han hesitated, thinking of Luke's friend Biggs Darklighter. "No they don't."

Then Ferron said, "Back on Joralla, I once took on a feral Wulkarsk single-handedly and won."

Han felt the corner of his mouth prick upwards. The ferocious Wulkarsk lived in the jungles, attacked and eating anything that was warm-blooded. They had six limbs that were as burly as young tree trunks and razor sharp teeth.

The joke came next. The Direx's eyes glinted. "And now you're wondering, 'Was it before or after I lost my arm.'"

Han grinned. Either he was losing his touch or this particular Direx had taken a liking to him. It was a first. "My bet is that that's where you lost it."

"You should have wagered." Ferron wagged a finger and moved behind his massive desk. "Let's see about your inquiry. Names?"

"Klaus and Jessa Vandangante."

"Do you know if they're native-born or naturalized citizens?"

"They said they'd been running their business for quite a few years out here. Went by the name _Shardra Interstellar Shipping_..."

Han launched into his ironclad and pre-planned story. Doc and Jessa had been running an outfit on Vaynai last time he'd been in-system. Along with making slick runs to the Kalinda system and maintaining their fleet, they'd had a private spacebarn specializing in repair work for anything manufactured in or around Corellia and Kuat. A friend had referred him to the pair for hyperdrive repairs. After examining his ship's hyperdrive and making an estimate for repairs and parts, they'd offered to outfit him with an S-6 Nubian hyperdrive generator (which was a hundred times better and lasted a hundred times longer than the mass manufactured SoroSuub generator Han currently had installed on the _Falcon_). For a fee of ten-thousand credits, Han had taken the deal.

The generator had turned out to be counterfeit.

According to his carefully crafted story, when the counterfeit generator had broken down, he'd been back in the Core just past the fifth Coruscant marker and his hands had been tied. There were no cross-territory laws existing between the Empire and the Corporate Sector – at least none related to private work and not trade; the Vandangantes had probably been screwing credits vouchers from Sector pilots for years with very professional fakes. Still, there were common were codes of honour among space-pilots and a strict regulation of spacebarn practices. It wasn't like out-fitting a kid's landspeeder with a faulty converter. In space, most shipboard problems ended only one way. Laws were strict.

"How long ago was all this?" Ferron asked toward the end of his tale.

"Almost three years."

"Did you inspect the generator before purchasing it?"

"They had the genuine specimen. They just didn't install it on _my_ ship. They pulled a fast switch."

"Have your registered your complaint with the local business claims association? Any watchdog agencies?"

Han had done so, only yesterday as a matter of fact, with a well-connected Snivvian who for triple his regular fee, would backdate his complaint six months or so to another branch on another Corporate Sector world. The valid filocard and textfile were in the hands of Security. "I was going to check in with the office here in Trade City, but once I do that they collect twenty percent. If their assets have been seized, it's an Authority matter and not one for the skip-tracers, right? Thought I might as well do my homework first, see if there was going to be anything to get out of them from this end."

"Frugal is as frugal does. Now let's see..." Ferron clicked a few controls on his desk and glanced up at Han. "This inquiry should only take a few minutes – that is if you don't mind waiting."

"I'm a patient man."

"And an art lover?"

"Sometimes."

The Direx touched a silver panel stationed beside his console. "We have quite a collection downstairs. Look to your right."

**Han did and found himself facing a two-dimensional painting of a small solar system, projected onto the unadorned wall by an overhead projector no larger than his forearm. ****"**_**That**_** is a two-thousand year old Saffa painting."**

Han had heard of them; he knew only a dozen or so such paintings existed. He also knew that the artists had constructed the painting with such complex and perfect color precision, that another species, whose eyes registered the color spectrum at a different level than his own, would look at the same image and see something different. Not a star going nova in the center of a system, but a moon looming above a planet. Or a black hole swallowing space voraciously. Despite himself, he was actually impressed.

"Do you know what makes them so special, General?"

"They Saffa were mathematicians," Han recited, dredging up an ancient lecture drilled into him years ago at the Imperial Academy. "They say the equations to every great mystery in the galaxy are coded into the geometric angles between all celestial bodies. We've only cracked one. In the Corellian system. A Drall, a Selonian, and a human."

"The unholy triad if ever there was one," Ferron supplied.

"That's how the Corellians put it," Han began to say, but just then he looked to his left and stiffened involuntarily. Studying a Vaathkree Flatsculp display, life-size and so close that he could practically reach out and touch her was Leia. In fact, he would probably have been shocked to sweep his hand across her flesh and find physical contact impossible. He could even see the healing patch of red skin on her upper left arm, just beneath braided strap of her shift, all which remained of the blaster wound sustained over a month ago during the groundfight on Endor. He stared so intently that the pixels began to separate.

**Only after a long and painful breath did he realize that Ferron was asking him a question. **

"The woman came with you?"

"Yeah." Han took half a step back and she flickered twice as though his body was interrupting the incoming feed.

"Who is she?"

"A friend."

"We pride ourselves on being efficient here," the Direx nodded. "It's the best holo-technology – developed here on Bonadan. I don't meet with just everyone who has the right contacts, be they a General or not."

"I wouldn't have expected otherwise."

"Is she fond of the arts?"

The tension began to ease from Han's lean frame. The Direx was merely demonstrating that they'd done their homework. They knew what General Kylus and his lady friend had ordered for breakfast. They knew what time they'd left his hotel. They probably knew he'd won the three-day inclusive stay at the _Novaplex_ along with the crazy Belascan woman and her husband. That meant they knew he was scheduled to leave Bonadan tomorrow evening too, and that his shuttle departed at 1600h. _Well, you used to live out here, _Han reminded himself._ You aren't actually surprised by any of this. You knew you wouldn't actually get a meeting if you weren't squeaky-clean and didn't pass a trace by the Situational Enforcement Bureau._

"Yes," Han replied truthfully, although, faced with the simple question, it occurred to him he didn't even know the answer.

"They all usually are." Ferron winked as though they had some sort of private understanding regarding the fairer sex. "If you don't mind my saying so, she's quite the beauty. I bet she's worn your credit-fold out dragging you to the shops."

Caught off-guard by the emotion the compliment generated, Han grunted out nondescript reply and bared his teeth in a manner that was more of a cold grimace than a smile. In the meantime, a security guard approached Leia and began pointing at the Flatsculp display, back and forth. Leia nodded and replied to him, but try as he might, Han couldn't read her lips.

The console on the Direx's desk flashed. "Jessa and Klaus Vandangante were arrested for assisting a terrorist organization. Their arrest was part of a collaboration with Imperial border security."

_That explains it_, Han thought. And the terrorist organization he referred to _was _the Rebellion. The trade routes where the freighters had been boarded were just past the Sector markers in shared space Imperial and Sector space. Jessa and Doc had been in trouble.

Ferron continued studying the screen with furrowed brows. "Klaus Vandangante died in stasis before he could be tried. He had advanced cancer of the liver. They must not have run the standard medical on him beforehand."

Stasis was the ominous catch phrase and be-all end-all solution to penal difficulties. It robbed a sentient of life, death, even conscious thought; it committed them to a cruel state of suspended animation and was the Sector's version of carbonite freeze.

The news caused his gullet to twist hard and knife upwards. Han began feeling hot all over. He locked his spine and knees as straight as a seized fluidic engine. Then he asked, "And the girl?"

"The girl was released for lack of evidence almost a year ago. It says here that the CSA put their company up for auction while they were under investigation. They sold it to GalResource Industries." Ferron eyes continued moving up and down behind the console screen. He clapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as though he was impressed or disdainful. "After deducting prison costs, legal costs, cremation of the body, the profits were handed over to her. But it was an unusual auction. GalResource and IntelStar had a bidding war for the company. She got more than twice the estimated value. She would have been financially set several lifetimes over." The white-threaded brows rose almost sympathetically. "Looks like you're better off with a skiptracer after all General. You'll only lose two-thousand or so."

"You wouldn't happen to know where she relocated"

Ferron's eyes flicked over the screen again. "No." And then he said, "Wait."

"What?" 

"That's interesting."

_Interesting as in I should run for my life_? _Or interesting as in she spells her name the Saffalorian way._ "A lead?"

"There's been a lot of activity in this file lately."

Han stared hard at the darks of Ferron's eyes, hoping some of the information onscreen might be reflected there. "Are they going to reopen the case?"

"One would think. However, there are no records of what they're looking for - just the dates and times it's been accessed."

Han stood frozen, waiting for the doors to blast open and Security to swarm him. He suspected he would fare better against an entire pack of wild Wulkarsk.

The Direx only said, "Hmmm. Well, well, I suppose that's all I can do for you today General. It's been a pleasure."

This time Han remembered to extend his left hand. "Thank you for your assistance."

Minutes later, Han stepped out of the dropshaft feeling light-headed and wobbly. Dropshafts relied on opposing and invisible repulsorlift fields to either _lift_ a passenger up or float them softly down. Stepping into them at ground level never bothered him, but his natural instincts always intervened when he was about to step into the long tubes from a higher-up floor. One of these days, he was convinced he would hop inside only to accidentally plunge to his own death.

He purchased a pass to the museum and found Leia in the main atrium, to the left of the low energy force-barrier that protected the Saffa painting from microbes and airborne particles. The guard he'd seen speaking to her upstairs was still loitering nearby. Han set his hand on her elbow and gazed at the canvas. He kept his voice to a dull murmur. "What do you see?"

"The death of a star," she said.

"What else?"

"I have one admirer who is woefully well-versed in pick-up lines that might yield success here in Trade City but would earn him a slap anywhere else. I'm also being watched." She inclined her chin toward the swell of her collarbone without breaking her gaze from the painting. "Behind the kinesculpture displays. On your left."

Han waited to glance until the kinesculptures changed positions. Indeed, a nondescript local with bulging eyes casually shifted his positioning as though he sought to follow the moving sculpture for closer study. The only other occupants of the forward gallery were an elderly woman and a boy, beside a display of 'mummified stonesingers' (which were about as exciting as one might expect fist-sized rocks to be). The woman was screeching at the youngster in broken sector standard. He had spilled a bright-coloured beverage over the front of his shirt and was crying. Neither so much as looked in their direction.

"Did you get what you came for?"

"More questions than answers. In other words, the usual."

"What do we do now?"

"We leave." Since no one in molecular bonded armour had come after them with stuncuffs thus far, he quashed the urge to run for his life. He added, just in case Ferron was watching them now and had an audio feed in his office, "We'll find a hot meal. I could eat a carton of _mook_ fruit and the tauntaun attached to it."

"Mook fruit?"

"That's how we lured the stinking beasts out of their pens." Han began peeling off his jacket. "What did you think? We whistled and they skid-daddled out into sub-zero temperatures?"

"I thought they were trained to reply to vocal commands by special handlers."

"You never went near them, did you?"

"Well no. My responsibilities were with -"

Han thrust the jacket at her and said, "Put this on. It's getting chilly." That he said even though it was summer and it wasn't cold at all. He used the tone that even Chewie didn't argue with.

Leia closed her mouth, shoved her arms inside his jacket and closed the lapels over her chest.

They headed for the nearest exit without looking behind them. Because Trade City hummed day and night, and shift work began and ended at all hours, rush hour was ongoing. They blended in easily with the surface-level crowds. Han stopped only to catch his breath and check to see if bug-eyes had followed them.

Several blocks later they reached the grungy downtown Commuter Transit Station.

"Was there anything at the hotel we can't live without?" he asked.

"No. Wait? Are we going-" She tossed her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Of course, I understand."

Han purchased a pair of tickets for the next outbound gravsled-train from a hemispherical silver A2-Droid hovering with one metal arm bent at the joint atop the counter. He also purchased a map of the surrounding areas and nearby cities. Then they hurried to the back platforms and waited in between the advertisement booths. Han went to grab a few ad-chips but every single one requested a thumb print for its records, so he borrowed a stylus from another bystander and scribbled the addresses and com-numbers of other planetary spaceports onto his map the old-fashioned way.

A train arrived within minutes. Bonadan, as a rule, didn't believe in encouraging its inhabitants to use public transportation. Not when it built enough aerospace transports and hoppers for every man, woman and child to own two of each in their favourite color. Predictably, the train was overcrowded and poorly maintained. There wasn't much in the way of comfort, not even a cushion or bit of padding on the seats. They settled onto a naked bench at the rear, near to the emergency exit and as far away as possible from the multi-species fresher that served their section.

Only after they'd cleared the city limits did he come out and say it. "I'm starting to think I was set up."

Leia stared askance at a pair of Pho Ph'eahians that were chanting and clapping their many hands together. "Are you sure?"

"That message was so old it was nearly fossilized."

"But you've been impossible to track down for years-"

"According to the Direx, there's been constant activity in both files. Do you want to take our chances and go back to the hotel?"

Color shaded her cheeks. "Don't be absurd."

"My point." He didn't feel like telling her the rest of it just yet. _Someone_ had been waiting and watching for an inquiry into that file. Han shook his head bitterly. The message had been the bait; saying he had a _few _enemies out here was a conservative estimate. If he paused to dwell on who might have wanted to lure him across the galaxy, he would be marking off his list long past dinnertime. They probably were probably questioning the Direx now. They would trace them to the _Novaplex_, to the _Kuari Princess_. They'd have to find a different means to return to Reltooine. With any luck, they could find a freighter in a nearby city that that wouldn't charge half of the Emperor's fortunes.

Passengers toward the front of the train cracked open a sliding window. Unfiltered air and powdery dust assaulted them.

Leia removed his jacket and held it up as protection, lowering her voice to barely an audible whisper. "Here's what I don't understand. If the message was intended to lure you here, why weren't you taken into custody at the Authority Tower?"

It was a good question – one he had been asking himself since they left. The best he could come up with was that whoever was after him had nothing to do with the Espo although they were using the CSA government as a tool to track him. The train pitched and swung around a narrow turn. The Corellian anchored his body in place by bracing his feet against the hindmost part of the bench in front of him. The base of his skull pounded as though his brain was trying to beat its way out and he felt heavy and sore all over. The maps indicated that it would be at least eight hours before the train reached the next spaceport city.

_Doc is dead_ was tumbling through his mind like an unwanted nightmare. He said, "I don't know."


	6. Chapter 6

The ride from Trade City to Kahlis, the next major city port, was interminable and a lesson in endurance. Han spent the duration staring out the window, plunged into a deep gloom. Leia was certain that the journey through the Bonadan hinterlands had been committed to Han's memory for a lifetime. Either that or he just hadn't been _seeing_. When she wasn't watching the Pho Ph'eahians at their animated prayer, or trying to doze, she'd studied the hands plaited together on his knees. Each tendon was corded like the smooth ridges of a hydenock trees in summer when it shed its outer bark. They were capable of so much and yet they could not restore life. They could not go back in time and she sensed that more than anything, he was wishing that he could.

She did not ask him why. Nor did she question his reasons for fleeing Trade City. Having learned over the past several years that a vibe from Han, or a 'gut instinct' for that matter, was often as astute as Luke's Force-intuition, it wouldn't have occurred to her to quarrel or interrogate him. Additionally, she had not shaken the impending dread wrought by the vision outside the Alderaanian Embassy. The Force had the potential to curse her with sibylline powers; knowing now that she was more than an ordinary human woman, she could not ignore her apprehension.

They arrived in Kahlis long past dark, exhausted, dirty and disorientated. Han found a hotel catering to humans tucked away on a side street. They received a few quizzical glances for their lack of belongings. Han explained to the concierge that their luggage had been seized on the streets of Trade City by a marauding band of G'nooks with blue domes and could he let him know if he ran across them. The generic room was clean and contained only the barest essentials - a bed, nightstand, fold-up table and tiny fresher. It would do.

Famished and faintly travelsick from the extreme swaying of the gravsled train, Leia promptly ordered two of the daily special from the adjoining restaurant. An automated droid delivered the meals a short time later (virtually every menial service in the Sector that was performed by droids), reciting gratuity charges when she insisted on paying with credit-vouchers. To her surprise, the food was a surprisingly tasty stew made of nerf meat and vegetables, seasoned with an aromatic blend of common herbs that she couldn't identify but knew she'd eaten before. She sat on the bed alone with the thermal container, devouring the meal so quickly that she scalded the roof of her mouth.

Insisting he wasn't hungry, Han's left his dinner on the chipped nightstand. Instead, he reclined in the scooped out window bench and grunted inarticulate replies at the spaceport maps strewn across his knees.

Han Solo had his battle scars; she just hadn't seen them close up until now. And his heart had a hundred corners with a thousand secrets and different pasts. Something terrible had been unearthed today at the Direx's head offices that he wasn't telling her. She wanted to lend her support and comfort but feared the words she often offered others at such times would sound banal and superficial, regrettably flimsy. The differences between her brother and lover were never more profound than when they grieved. Luke was so blessedly easy to comfort.

After washing up and discarding the container, she went over to him and slipped her hand into his in a gesture of supplication "Tell me," she said because Luke always said that.

Han jerked his head from side to side angrily.

"_Please_-" she began to say.

"It's not that he died, it's _how_."

_Doc_. She held her breath, relieved, hoping that he'd keep going and wouldn't shut her out.

"Doc was decent people," he muttered. "One of the best. Completely old school. He didn't deserve to die the way he probably did. He'd been stuck in stasis once before. Said he'd rather die than go back when I got him out the last time…"

Leia took note of that quietly. She'd heard of stasis; she knew it was safer than cryogenic freezing, but no less barbarous. She wished his hair was long enough that she could brush it away from his eyes the way she used to. She settled for indiscriminately running her fingers along his hairline.

"There were two things any captain could stake his life on with Doc. You always got a fair deal and he could tweak your ship's innards better than an elite Kuati technician."

"That good with her huh?"

"Not to say that I'm not hands on with her – I am - but he had the magic touch. He was the Jedi of space technicians, if there is such at thing. Jessa took after him. "

At that, Leia withdrew her hand and sat on the other end of the window seat with one leg folded beneath her. She imagined the poor woman trapped in a womb-like prison, blonde locks fading to grey, curling and uncurling as though attached to an underwater corpse. Since halfway through their interminable journey to Kahlis, she'd dreaded that Han had been seeking his old lover beyond the transparisteel over the long trip. Deep down where she would not admit it, she was jealous of her, resenting her for invading the present like a ghost of lifetimes past. It was selfish, but she didn't want to see him grieve over another woman. She recalled that Han hadn't said how she was faring yet and asked.

Han divulged to her what the Direx had explained while he removed his boots.

"You must be relieved," she said when he finished.

"I kept thinking that they were arrested when I was carbonite. I was convinced I had one more reason to hate your dear old dad."

Leia winced. Unable to comprehend how he could joke about anything from the past year, with or without a heavy degree of asperity, she anxiously stole a glance outside and eyed the sliver of darkened courtyard. Her senses were on high alert, suspicious of every movement, every sound. There was nothing out there.

They'd been on Hoth by then anyway. The message would never have reached him in time. Not after being circuited through the dozens of safety points that made up the Alliance's networking structure. Their own members often didn't receive word of births or deaths within their own family until nearly a year after they occurred. She tried not to think of him abandoning the Alliance. "It would have been too late. You did everything that was within your power. I know you; you _would_ have been here if you could. There wasn't any more you could have done for him."

Han vaulted to his feet, sucking air in through his nose fiercely. Near to accusingly, he asked, "Does it actually work when you tell yourself that? Cause it sure as hell isn't working now."

It was impossible to tell if the remark was calculated to hurt her or had just come out sounding harsh. Leia studied a bronze-tinted waste receptacle and blinked, wondering if she should lay into him then and there or rein her temper in. Everyone handled grief in different ways. Han wasn't the type to pontificate and mourn for days or weeks on end. He'd get it all out there good and loud for anyone who'd listen and then decide to reconfigure the _Falcon's_ entire sensor suite or re-arrange the aft cargo hold.

_He's allowed_, she instructed herself. _But not one step further. Not one step… _

Han paced over to entry panel and switched off the lights so that she couldn't see five fingers past the end of her nose. She couldn't see his secretiveness any longer either, hidden beneath heavy lids and a grim expression. She heard the bed creaking and tarried by the window seat, paralyzed with indecision about what to do next.

Han settled it for her. "Don't you want to get some sleep?"

He asked her so naturally that she couldn't help but determine that he hadn't meant any offence before.

"Yes, I suppose." Hands outstretched, she fumbled in the dark until she located the edge of the bed where he was seated. She sat and removed her sandals.

"I didn't mean that."

"I know you didn't." With little effort, she managed to discard the lingering rush of anger and wrapped her arms about him.

Han returned her embrace tightly. "And I love you."

"I know that too."

He unfastened his holster and belt and kissed her with a strange desperation she hadn't felt in him before. He fell over her onto the bed, lifting her skirts and removing her underwear. His body and hands pinioned her down with the same intensity so that her body sank into the overly soft mattress.

All of the motions were frantic, as though he didn't have time and was racing to finish before they were caught. Her body responded to him, but not quickly enough - she was tense and couldn't relax. Still, she ran her hands over his hips and gripped him tightly to encourage him.

Only when he was at rest inside her, smelling of damp skin and desert grit, did he catch on to her deceit. He propped himself up on his forearms. "You didn't."

That on such a terrible day he should feel guilty pained her. "It's okay," she whispered, kissing him fiercely. The tremulous throb of her almost orgasm rose anew, but as her muscles contracted he slipped out. Oddly, she found it didn't matter to her.

They righted themselves toward the upper end of the bed where she folded herself into the crease of his shoulder and pressed the full length of her legs close against his lean and scratchy ones. The universe suddenly felt deceptively safe, with the darkness swallowing them up as though nothing could touch them. Leia was content to lay still and watch the patterns cast by outside lights moving across the walls, wondering why the quiet dream beyond which she could imagine there were no horrors, no shame, no planets destroyed, no friends passing before their time, never, _never_ lasted.

Some time later Leia awoke alone.

She activated the bedside holo-lamp and saw that remains of the second dinner rested there. There was a lingering humidity in the air, complemented by the scent of damp towels as though someone had recently showered. Han's clothes and boots were gone too, yet there was no note, no message tabbed into the tableside datapad. Her identification and several thousands of credit vouchers rested on the window seat. They hadn't had that much cash on hand before she went to sleep, meaning Han had been out and back to their room at least once.

_He wouldn't… _

The thought had barely crossed her mind when she heard footsteps outside their door. Without a moment to pause, Leia leapt from the sheets and hoisted the bronze waste receptacle over her head, poised to bring it down on the intruder with all with strength.

The door suite slid open and Han exclaimed, "It's me."

Leia dropped the receptacle with a resounding clang. "You're lucky I didn't break your skull in two."

Han was grinning. "For the record, I've never almost been assaulted by a naked woman," he commented, shifting his purchases on his left hand in order to pull down the flip-and-fold table.

"Oh for the love of…" Leia returned to the bed and gathered the sheet about her chest. "It was my master plan. Shock whoever was breaking-in into staring so that I could slam this down on their head and concuss them. What do you think?"

"It would have worked." Han gestured to a plastene cup. "On me, anyway. And I got you a caf."

At his apparent indifference to what had almost just happened, anger rose, blue-flamed, all the way from her tiptoes. "Just how was I supposed to know it was you? I didn't even know you'd left."

"You were sound asleep."

Leia hissed between her teeth. "_I am not asleep now_."

"I didn't think you would wake up."

"Do you ever think?" There were bad sleeps that led to bad moods and bad moods that led to bad everything. This was rule number one when you were in trouble. It was human decency. "We don't know who's coming after us. You've told me next to nothing about who it could be. You don't walk out and slip away on private business without telling me where. If I'd actually had a blaster than you would be -"

"Okay. _Okay_."

She dragged herself and the trailing sheet to the table, then pried the lid of one of the cups, afraid to ask. "Since when do you pick up cafs in the middle of the night?"

"I found us a transport to Reltooine," he said.

"Oh." She rubbed the sleep from the corners of her eyes and waited grumpily for the next part.

"We have to leave in a half a hour."

Kahlis was massive, as far as cities on Bonadan went, and although the traffic wasn't quite near the level of insanity attained on Coruscant, it was frightening and only those born and raised there dared it. At any rate, Han wouldn't have trusted himself to navigate his way to the North end of the spaceport on his own. They had the concierge call for a reputable air-taxi.

For the third time in as many minutes, Han chanced an unassuming glance at Leia, but her body was stiff and drawn as far away from his as possible. She hadn't spoken to him since they left their hotel room and he hoped that she would get over being angry with him before they reached the spaceport. "_Who _and _where_?" she'd asked over and over, until he managed to explain that he'd obtained passage for them on a Selonian merchant ship at a local watering hole. The captain had promised him (between long susurrations and twitchy tongue-flicking) an improvised cabin and said that he didn't care _who_ they were so long as their credits-vouchers were good. It suited Han just fine. The sooner they put a few light years between them and Bonadan the better.

Han cleared his throat but she continued coolly contemplating the traffic. The downward view of criss-crossing lanes was dizzying and the lights from oncoming vehicles periodically allowed him to see that her lips were pressed tight. He uttered, "Huh."

Her tone bore a trace of vexation. "I saw the credits and at first I thought-"

"No, no." Han shook his head, unfastened his safety strap and moved over into the empty seat. "I didn't want to bring it all to the tapcaf," he explained, brushing his fingertips over the fine bones of her cheek. "How the hell was I supposed to find a datapad-?"

"-on the nightstand-"

"-in the dark."

The air-taxi began to slow. Han skirted a glance up front, and saw that they were coming to a major mid-air intersection. He mouthed, _Fine. I'm a blasted idiot_.

_Yes, you-_ she began.

A sudden _crack _was all the warning they got.

The nimble craft shuddered and screamed, then began a rapid vertical descent. Han's entire body snapped upward as though he was nothing more than a rag doll. The lights far off below began rushing toward him. Despite the plunge, the craft continued jerking and wobbling, banking left and right, as though it was determined to decide where it would crash-land if it couldn't control the speed at which the disaster occurred. (It might have been that the driver, in a supreme moment of civic duty, was trying to prevent them from killing anyone else.) Han couldn't do anything other than flail his arms try to protect his head from smashing against the ceiling.

The streets below came at him faster and faster.

_This is it_, he thought.

Just as Han's stomach was trying to squeeze its way through his esophagus, the air-taxi slammed down hard on its side, connecting with an unmistakably solid surface. The sound of crunching ceramisteel roared in his ears, and near-seismic vibrations threatened to tear the vessel to shreds. The brutal hitch slung him forward against the protective glass that separated the passenger section and driver, and then just as violently he was careening toward Leia. He did his best to catch his weight with his hands, feeling his wrists buckle – but it was nearly impossible flying sideways. Leia went, "_Oomph_," under him and something hard smacked the back of his head.

Abruptly Han bounced backwards onto the seat and landed in an undignified position. All around him shrill sirens and alarms were going off. Ears ringing, Han lay still and struggled to make out the driver's anxious voice above the racket and see through the smoke. "I'm so sorry. Are you both all right? Sir? Sir? Sir?"

"I think so." Han shoved himself up, feeling stunned but otherwise none the worse for wear. Traffic still rushed around them and there were approximately ten lanes of vessels sailing to and fro beneath them. High monumental towers made of rather adamant stones stretched to the heavens on either side and in every direction, forward and backward. "What the hell-"

"Please do not open your door until assistance arrives. It's too dangerous. We were caught on a breakdown platform in the center of the sky-lane."

That explained why and how they were seemingly floating in mid-air. Han opened his door anyway. Less than a meter of the sparse platform extended outside the air-taxi's foot-ledge. The platform also extended a few meters further behind them. The nose and right side of the air-taxi were wrapped in a type of sticky high-tech metallic crash webbing that must have acted like a reverse parachute, snaring them as they flew into it and tethering them to the platform. Han had never seen anything like it before. Or, these were the crash-platforms that he'd seen holo-signs for periodically. The ironic part of his imagination tended to write them off as potentially ineffective and more of a hindrance than a help. Well, he'd been saved by one now and might just live to tell about it.

_If whoever had fired at them…_

Han squinted toward the rear of the craft and surveyed the damage. "Someone blasted your repulsorlift systems," he said.

"I know, Sir. Could you please close your door?" The driver sounded badly shaken up. "Is the woman is hurt?"

"I'm fine."

It occurred to Han that he hadn't checked on her yet and he snapped his head back inside with sudden worry, only to catch her gritting her teeth. "Leia-"

"We have to get to the spaceport," she hissed. "This was no accident."

He surmised that she too, had heard the sound of artillery fire striking the vessel. "Can you just call us another air-taxi?" he asked insistently. "We're in a hurry." The Selonian captain would depart without them if they weren't there, with the deposit he'd paid if it came to that.

"There's one coming now."

"That was fast." Checking back out his window, he saw that there was indeed one hovering beside them in wait. The vehicle bore the same company name and same logo. "What about you?" he asked.

"I'll wait for the clean-up crew to arrive."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

They managed an awkward transfer of passengers in mid-air without incident and were soon underway. Shortly thereafter, Han was rubbing the swelling bulge on the back of his head, wondering if the accident had been a bad dream, although the pallor vivid on Leia's face was evidence enough that it had not been. She kept both hands pressed beneath her right breast.

"You're hurt?"

"No. You're just very big and very heavy."

He swallowed his concern for the moment. The inside of his mind was a whirlwind of broken thoughts and confusion.

No one could possibly have followed them from Trade City; he'd made sure of it. Furthermore, if someone had gone through this much trouble to lure him to Bonadan, it made _no_ sense that they would attempt to blast him out of the sky and kill him outright. Most mortal enemies would want to make damn sure he knew _who_ they were and why they wanted him. Nothing fit.

For all he knew, they were being followed now.

The exit to the spaceport sailed past his peripheral vision. Han rapped on the dividing glass, which felt oddly more resilient than necessary, studying the forward occupant. The driver's ample body all but engulfed the front seat. His hands and fingers were so enormous that the toggles and controls looked child-size. "_Hey_!"

"Yes, Sir."

"You missed the turnoff."

"Did I?"

"Yes you did."

"I'm sorry about that. There's another exit two minutes ahead."

The circles in Han's mind abruptly ceased. He leaned his head against the window and watched for the next exit, attempting to stare through his own reflection when the lights of passing vessels drowned out the night scenery and fleeting route markers. Each time they passed his face became distorted and transparent, and then his features opened up, unfolded and rejoined at the center. Han studied all this with a horrible sinking feeling in his gut. Denial and self-disgust at his own idiocy would come later. Leia was leaning her head against the bolster with her eyes closed, still holding her ribs.

_Two minutes ahead…_

After one minute, Han asked gravely, "Who the hell are you working for?"

The massive humanoid turned so that Han got a view of the side of his grey and leathery face. He was a _Yaka_. A small rectangular console port blinked just above his ear, burrowing like a plated mawrpa worm into his skull. His eyes were small and calculating, almost inhuman. "Does it matter?"

"It always matters to me."

The cyborg grinned in a repellent manner and leaned toward his feet, fumbling for something unseeable. There was a quiet hiss and then the scent of something sweet began wafting through the air vents. Han's nostrils burned as though he'd ingested Gamorrean snuff and he choked, struggling to open the windows or doors but they were securely locked. "It's me they want," he rasped. "Whoever sent you is after _me_, not her. Let the girl go."

"Take a deep breath Captain Solo. Take a deep breath and go to sleep." The Yaka's next words sounded as though they were spoken underwater. "You're not the one they're after this time.

When Han first came to, he lay perfectly still for what felt like years, praying his body would make a final decision regarding the last meal he'd eaten. And he hoped that when it did he would find the strength to roll over first. He had the strangest impression that leaden chains had been triple-wrapped around his arms and legs and he was cold, but not cold enough to account for the tingling in his fingers and toes. Praying for it all to wear off, he unclosed his eyes and stared at an obsidian-like ceiling, which reminded him, oddly, of the adamantine durasteel often used in for blast protection in government offices and banks vaults.

The chemical sedative they'd used was extremely potent. The voice of the fresh-faced medic struggling to sedate Chewie at the Alliance med-center flitted in and out of focus.

("Double the rate of zenethine to knock out a grown Wookiee even with weight differential factored in," he had said.)

_If he'd been trained out here he would have had no problem_. In the half-sick, half-dreamy state, he wondered if the naked legged Chewie had taken to wearing pants, and pictured him in different types of apparel until he drifted back to sleep.

Some time later, he awoke for the second time, feeling almost human and sore all over from the crash. Han pressed himself into a sitting position. Other than the small unconscious woman beside him, there was nothing in the room, not even a bench, and the only distinguishing feature besides the door appeared to be a deposit slat, which was cranked open as if to allow air inside.

"At least they don't want us to suffocate," he muttered to her.

Leia didn't respond.

Han was a big man, tall for a human, tall for a Corellian even, and they had made sure to pump the sedative into the back of the air-taxi accordingly. But the numbskulls that had picked them up had not bothered to calculate what the same amount of gas would do to a woman whose body weight was half his own.

Anxiously, Han stooped over her, jogging her shoulders at first and then lightly slapping her cheeks. She didn't respond, not even to pain. Her muscles were utterly flaccid; her neck flopped to the left as though broken when he checked for breath, and then he barely felt the sensation of a warm moist air against his cheek. Her pupils were nothing more than tiny unseeing pinpoints. The delicate skirts of her shift were wet and clinging to her legs.

Frantic with the anticipation of a loss he couldn't fathom, Han crawled across the untarnished floors to the open deposit slat and began shouting to anyone who could hear him.

A huge hairy biped cracked the door finally. "Back away," it growled thickly. "What's the problem?"

Unable to dream of disobeying, Han locked his hands behind his head and eased away. He'd only seen the legendary Shistavanen Wolfman a few occasions in his lifetime and he didn't remember any of them being stress-free. The imposing canine had high pointy tufted ears and retractable claws that were currently on display. It wore a long tunic belted at the waist. From its belt hung a variety of stunners and short-distance sprays, along with binders and a few other nasty looking weapons. The Shistavanen Wolfmen did not pose as guards for the sake of mere decoration; they were feared warriors, famous throughout the galaxy. One swipe of their claws would strip not only his shirt but also the skin clean off his back.

The Corellian swallowed in search of his voice. "Look at her. See for yourself."

The massive canine's sticky snout twitched, sniffing the air for death. It didn't know human physiology but apparently it could smell sickness, for it said, "Go call for aid." A second creature, which Han had not noticed outside the vault, darted down the passageways on all fours.

Maybe Han sat with like that for five minutes on protesting knees, both of which were seasoned enough to cramp and swell. He watched Leia and was all too conscious of the canine watching him.

Eventually, they escorted an Em-Dee droid inside the vault-like cell. Several highly sensitive appendages and optical scanners began examining her. Han studied the information as it flashed across the data-screen built into the Em-Dee's chest. "The subject is suffering from an overdose of the sedative used to relax her for transportation here," it proclaimed.

_Relax her?_ "What the hell would you call it if you'd meant to kill her then?"

It administered oxygen and pressed an injector against her neck. "She will live."

The effort of holding his drained limbs behind his neck was unbelievably taxing. Han grimaced and let his arms fall to his sides. "We were in an accident. She might have broken a few ribs too. Check for that while you're at it." The ghastly blue tinge had begun fading from her skin. He added, to anyone listening whilst the Em-Dee activated its fluoroscope, "She needs some dry clothes."

A moment later, a pair of coveralls bearing a ubiquitous industrial logo landed next to him. Han didn't look up to see what or who was watching. He stripped off the wet shift and underclothing as quickly as he could and slipped the coveralls up to her waist. Then the Em-Dee motioned for him to roll her over.

A human voice said, nearly conversationally, I can see why my brother was so infatuated with her – _almost_. She does have a certain beauty to her, doesn't she? But she's a little too scrawny where it counts for my tastes."

The Corellian pilot slumped back on his heels. The man looming over him was tall and thin with unnaturally pale blue eyes. He had a youthful and unlined face that didn't match up with the rest of him - most of the closely cropped black mane was thickly threaded with premature grey and his sombre, unadorned robes were befitting a Ni'Shaw-Dak High Priest. Under ordinary circumstances, by now Han would have lunged viciously enough to draw blood or break his nose but this was neither the time nor the place. One abrupt movement on his part would be met with brutal physical retaliation.

So Han said icily, "Who the hell are you?"

"Lord Tion."

Han blinked.

"The Younger. More commonly known as the Tionese Ambassador to Bonadan."

Nothing resonated with him, although from the way the man was looking down at him, the name was supposed to impress him or jar his memory. A Lord. And an Ambassador of what? The Royal Family of the Tionese Hegemony? Did they have one? "Tion Industries and Starfreight," he said. The company was famous galaxy-wide.

"Very good."

_Well, I don't follow_. _What did I ever do to them?_ Sure, he'd had a few adventures in the Tion Hegemony and irritated a few locals, but he had never been involved with_ Tion Industries and Starfreight_ nor any nobility for that matter. Just the regular local regents and misfits, all of whom were merrily corrupt at the ground level and usually oblivious to the Hegemony politics. It should have been consoling knowledge but it wasn't. Realistically, Tion had gone through too much trouble to have mistaken him for anyone else. The throbs of his aching skull and knees deterred him from a guessing game. "What you want from me?"

"To be perfectly honest, I want nothing from you, Captain Solo."

"I'm glad to hear it," he returned, more confused than ever. "Now you let us go and I'll want nothing from you either." Han shifted his shoulders and re-covered Leia's nose and mouth with the breathing mask. If only a holdout blaster had been tucked under her skirts he would have blown their welcoming party away. Even the vibroblade he kept usually kept tucked in his boot had been left on board the _Falcon_. "I don't usually offer amnesty after the fact," he warned, as though he was armed to the teeth.

"Yes." The Ambassador tapped a set of ornately painted fingernails together. "I believe I've heard the rumours. Let me be more succinct. _I_ want nothing from you. A few underground members of the CSA with united interests, on the other hand, have quite a few wants where you are concerned."

"Why didn't you just say so?" Han sneered out the corner of his mouth. "In that case I don't know what they're paying you but-"

"Precious little," Ambassador Tion clipped. His tone was slightly nasal. "Don't bother trying to offer more or convince me the Alliance would be interested in bargaining for you. A nominal fee for your procurement has been agreed upon. If I were truly interested in credits this conversation would be much less pleasant for you; the market for extracted rebel information never dwindles. No, the greatest reward shall be the advantage of having done the CSA a favour down the line."

"Yeah." Han snorted loudly. The Authority didn't work that way. "You'd be better off jumping into a bathtub full of slick. You'd smell better and not have to worry about whether or not the CSA was planning to sign you up for their expendable-partner-of-the-month club."

The Ambassador paced a step closer. "Perhaps you don't comprehend the value of a favour Captain?"

"Do you?"

"I expect our assessments of value differ."

Han took a deep breath. Great. This made-up piece of Tionese noblesse was too refined for a bounty hunter, despite the fact that he'd captured him for a third party. What he'd said about Leia and his brother – another Tion? – that made no sense either. Maybe they had _him_ right, and her wrong. He wet his lips with a parched tongue and tried again. "Whatever deal you've got with the CSA for me, it doesn't involve her. Let her go."

"And Luke Skywalker would never have been awarded the Medal of Alderaan if not for you, General Solo. He would have been dead, wouldn't he? The Alliance would have been defeated and become a faint memory in the minds of our generation and nothing more."

Han felt just as helpless as he had on Bespin while Darth Vader ordered him lowered over the scan grid again and again and _again_ without ever asking him a single question.

_You were just bait for a fledgling Jedi_, he thought to himself. _Now_…

Leia twitched to life and began moaning quietly.

_You're the lover of another potential Jedi. _

But Tion couldn't possibly know that.

One of the wolfmen tossed a water flask and a rough blanket into the vault. The Em-Dee finished scanning her back and rescinded its diagnostic instruments. Then it extended two thick needled bone-knitters and an injector that Han hoped for her sake was some sort of anaesthetic now that she was nearing consciousness. It spread a set of multi-jointed mechanical digits to the left of her spine. "There are two fractures in the lower quadrant."

Ambassador Tion the Younger paused to study the barely conscious woman again. "I do apologize for the near-fatal air accident. Had the driver we selected especially for you not arrived at your hotel tardily, your journey here would have gone much more smoothly and without incident. He'll be dealt with accordingly."

"Try yanking the wires from his brain," Han suggested.

"Perhaps I shall." The Em-Dee began guiding the compact injector toward her skin, but the Ambassador waved his hand. His expression was full of hatred and veiled carnality – if not of a morbidly sexual nature than morbidly inclined to notions of passion that penetrated Han's soul like the Hothan cold. He said, "Just the bone-knitter."

"Fuck you." Han ground his knuckles against the floor until he felt his skin tear.

The man moved to leave in a blur of swinging robes, pausing to add as in afterthought, "I'd hold her immobile if I were you, Solo. You know what might happen if she moves. Ask her about my brother when she recovers. She will know why she's here."

"The nausea wears off in time." Han squatted and stuck the flask in her hands. "Keep trying to take deep breaths. It'll help your head clear. And drink some of this."

"If I could take a deep breath," Leia wheezed, "I _would_."

It wasn't as much of a complaint as it was a statement of fact. Every shallow, less-than-satisfactory breath was like drizzling a drop of salt water onto cracked lips. She was famished for oxygen but could take in only half a breath before she was immobilized by the pain. The bone-knitter was only beginning to work. It had been barely an hour since she'd been able to force her body into a sitting position. Even now, achingly weary despite the long drugged sleep, all she could do was recline awkwardly against the cold durasteel on the heavy blanket, trying not to bend her torso forward or from side to side. The taut vice of pain around her lungs and diaphragm tightened with each inhale. To make matters worse, the imminent prospect of vomiting loomed incessantly and with her ribs aching so badly, it was simply too horrible to contemplate.

She remembered the air-taxi accident and that another had arrived and after that and then…

Nothing. Unless she counted the near-nightmare of waking up to the sensation of a needle being driven into raw bone.

She tried to forget it, gazing beyond Han at their barren cell. The chamber walls were like liquid darkness, smooth and swirling but forbidding escape. She knew without physically searching that there was no way out, for had there been one, Han would have found it by now. The only visible link to the outside world was deposit-like slat near where she rested. There was a puddle in the far right corner too large to be accumulated condensation; her gauzy shift lay balled up next to it. She decided against asking how she had come to be wearing a scratchy set of oversized brown coveralls.

Beside her, Han worked his mouth open and shut three times. Then he said slowly, "The Ambassador paid us a call."

"Ambassador?" she repeated, indignant. "Of what? Kidnapping people on Bonadan?"

"He's not _that _type of Ambassador."

"What type _is_ he?" Leia demanded, puzzled. All of the mental energy not dedicated to piecing together the recent past had been busily drawing up schemes regarding which of Han's old business contacts had captured them and why. (Actually, she'd been wondering more or less the same ever since they'd fled the Authority Tower in Trade City, although their capture hadn't been figured into the equation until now). She'd assumed his silence so far was because he didn't know.

Han said, "He seems to know you."

That sentence jolted her. "He knows _me_?"

"Yeah." Han set his jaw and furrowed his forehead.

"He recognized me?" In certain hands, that might work to their advantage - unless their kidnapping had been politically motivated to begin with but that didn't seem plausible. The initial message for help had been from Han's old lover Jessa to Han, not to her, and this was the Corporate Sector and not Imperial Space.

"Recognize isn't the term precisely."

Leia sighed. "Please get to the point."

"You know your mega-corporations too, don't you? Trans-Gal-Meg, SoroSuub."

"Yes."

"How about _Tion_ Industries? _Tion_ Starfreight?"

Her toes twitched ever so slightly.

"Cause you see, now would be a prudent time for me to point out to you that although _Tion Industries_ and all their affiliates are based in the Hegemony and a nice long, long, _long_ distance away, they run their primary operations _here _and hold eleven signatory seats - all voting - on the Corporate Sector Authority boards. They've got a twenty-percent majority. That translates to _power_ and influence and all those other perks. They have the Espo in their back pocket…" Han slapped a palm against the floors. "The Ambassador called himself Lord Tion the Younger. He said to ask about his brother. He said you would know."

Leia swallowed and sealed her eyes against the dim lighting.

Lord Tion had been the Imperial Task Force Commander on Ralltir when she was still a Senator and had just begun working for the Rebellion. Her diplomatic flagship, the _Tantive_, had been delivering medical supplies to Ralltir when it had inadvertently stumbled across information regarding the _Death Star _in the form of an injured rebel with data hypnotically imprinted in his brain. While rescuing the rebel she had played upon Tion's romantic feelings for her in order to escape from Imperial search and seizure. Later, Bail Organa had suggested they further capitalize on Lord Tion's interest in her by inviting him for dinner on Alderaan in an attempt to pry the sensitive Imperial information from him.

Unfortunately, the plan had gone awry. After proposing marriage to her, Lord Tion had begun ranting about the might of the Empire and the new technology that would quell the insurrectionists. Outraged, Leia had let her temper get the best of her and the words '_Death Star' _had slipped out. It had been the end of the evening's inquisitive negotiations and summarily, the end of Lord Tion.

It had been the first time she'd killed another human being.

She hadn't thought about it in years. Now her expression betrayed her before she could control it.

"_Aha_," Han muttered accusingly. "You _do_ know what this is about."

"It's not my fault," she heard herself saying. "There was an… _incident _at my father's estate." She began to search the pockets of the coveralls she was wearing. No luck. They were empty save for a few fraying threads. "Lord Tion went to draw his blaster and there was a struggle. He died."

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before."

"Why would I have?" The Tion Hegemony was massive, comprised of twenty-seven star systems and over fifty civilised planets. A quarter of the population claimed some sort of kinship or lineage to the ruling powers. There was no way she could have known that _Tion Industries_ was in any way related to Lord Tion. That would be like assuming every single person with the surname Antilles (and there were millions scattered across the galaxy) was an heir to the chain of _Antilles Stellar Shipyards_ on Corellia.

"_Gfersh_." Han's tone was harsh. "You should have told me."

It wouldn't have made an iota of difference. Leia didn't pursue the argument. "Did he say what he wants exactly?"

"Don't you know?"

"No."

The dinner had taken place scant months before Alderaan's destruction by the _Death Star_. No one – _no one_ - who'd been in her father's private dining room the evening Lord Tion died, or near it for that matter, had survived Alderaan's destruction. She didn't actually know the specifics of the cover-up. She didn't know what Bail Organa had informed the Empire, save that at an intergalactic level, the incident had been made to appear as though it were an accident and her role diminished to one of an innocent bystander. _This _Ambassador Tion might rightly suspect her of carrying some knowledge of his brother's final moments, but not of inflicting the mortal wound. The information might grant her some leverage - if there was any negotiating to be had. The Ambassador apparently didn't want them dead - or not just yet. He'd supplied medical assistance, even if the ministrations had been more truculent than kind. She struggled to sort out what role Han could possibly have to play in this, why he was involved. It didn't make sense.

Leia went to chew her lower lip and tasted the sweet chemical residue left over from the gas. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then, for lack of anything else, the coarse edge of the blanket. "Luke advised me to be cautious the night before we left Endor," she murmured.

"You didn't bother to mention that to me either?"

"There was nothing to mention. It wasn't more than a feeling." _No_. That wasn't true. Luke had said, "_I felt like I needed to make sure you were okay_. _Promise me you'll be careful._" She envisioned her brother's features, the clear blue of his eyes studying her. In hindsight Luke's concerns were as effulgent as lambent crystal or a sunward planetary descent over his homeworld. Had she been listening with her heart she might have sensed more of what he was feeling and what he was hiding from her for he'd obviously sensed a threat, sensed the imminent jeopardy they were facing.

The knowledge was pitifully irrelevant.

_I still would have come_, she thought, brushing stray hairs out of her eyes. _We would still be here._

Perhaps that was why he hadn't come straight out and said it. Or perhaps, he had felt as she had two days before at the Alderaanian Embassy, confused by what the Force had revealed to him and unsure of how to interpret it.

Aloud, she admitted, "Luke was concerned about your friends."

Han laughed cynically to himself and settled onto one knee. "I'll be sure to thank him for his faith in me next time I see him."

"Oh Han. It wasn't his faith in you." She had no right to be telling him this; Luke's concerns were not hers to share but it was too late to rescind her words. "His faith in your choice of acquaintances maybe," she stammered awkwardly, pointing to herself as if to indicate that she was one such acquaintance he would have been better off avoiding. "I don't understand. If I'm the person Tion sought to trap than what interest does he have with you?"

"I'm not worth that much of a reward to Tion but I'm popular out in these parts." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "I'm to be delivered elsewhere."

Whatever it was that Han had done here all those years ago remained a mystery. Leia processed the ramifications of what he was saying and struggled to breathe. She remembered Han once saying that the CSA had invented the most creative forms of torture and execution currently used by the Empire. She felt like she was slowly drowning inside the soulless black walls and it wasn't merely her ribs.

_We're not doing so great are we_, she thought, unable to bring herself to say it. Han's right temple was sporting a jagged crimson scratch. She reached up to trace the unmarked skin above it with her thumb; she discovered a swollen lump further back along his skull before she finished. Muted groans had escaped him once or twice since she'd awoken. She assumed that beneath his suit he was probably more of a mass of bruises and contusions than she was. "What's the plan?"

Han grunted a reply and hopped to his feet, posing languidly beside the slender lines that marked the breaks in the durasteel.

It only took a second for her to realize what he meant to do. Leia struggled to her feet, head swimming, resting both fists on her left hip to brace herself. "Don't be suicidal," she pleaded. "Attacking the first thing that opens the door isn't going to help us."

"Sitting and waiting curled up in a ball for them ain't gonna either."

"You said he's an Ambassador. There's an Alderaanian Embassy in Trade City." (Whereto, it occurred to Leia, they might well have been returned while under the effects of the sleeping gas. It was only an hour or two from Kahlis by sky-hopper.) "I can demand legal aid," she insisted.

"Sweetheart, take a hard look around. This isn't a local precinct cell and it's certainly not the best time to be such a pragmatist."

"You should try it for a change," she snapped. While she didn't recall the Ambassador's visit she _did _recall a pair of massive growling beasts standing over her just as the Em-Dee droid rolled away. They'd growled at Han and barked a few commands she hadn't understood in a language that she'd come to recognize as the Sector Standard. They would slaughter him and tear him to shreds before he had a genuine shot at escape. "I don't want you risking your life trying to protect me."

Han assumed a look of false chagrin. "Who says I'm not trying to protect _me_?"

Her scowl softened. At least his obnoxious attitude helped the fear roiling in her stomach. "This is _not_ a plan."

"Then I'll wait here while you come up with a better one." Han shrugged, almost apologetically. "In the meantime…" He set a hand over the curve of her neck. "You promise me something."

"Anything."

The Corellian took her face in his hands and held it close until she could see herself reflected in his eyes. "Wherever they bring you, you fight with every ounce of strength you have until I get to you. I'll _get_ to you."

She prayed for her confidence not to crack – not while he could see; it was coming treacherously close to breaking. She forced a deep breath and let the pain draw her focus away from her emotions. "I will."

He kissed her once. For a moment his teeth clung to her lower lip as though he sought to keep her but sounds echoed from outside through the deposit slat. Someone was coming. Han drew away from her. "I know."

Leia manoeuvred into a better position beside him. "You're forgetting one thing hotshot."

"What that?"

"You attack, I attack too."

"Fine." Han's arm shepherded her back a step. "But I get to go first."


	7. Chapter 7

A kilometre-wide sweeper storm streaked across the cobalt-blue skies, drawing in the sulphurous gases that blocked the dying moments of sunset just beyond the North Central Spaceport along the periphery of Trade City. It was identical to the storm Leia and Han had watched on their shuttle's descent from the _Kuari Princess_.

It was also identical to the one she had seen swallow the _Falcon _in her vision.

The sleek Ubrikkian skyhopper carrying herself and Lord Tion's technologically mutated henchmen sailed gently over the scorched earth and outer city limits. Leia tightened her white-knuckled grip, believing momentarily that they would fly directly into the vicious swirling storm (and deep down the currently suicidal part of her hoped that they would) but apparently, the storm's path was predictable and working on a time-table that local pilots knew by rote. When they were only a scant hundred meters away, the craft slowed to a standstill. Seconds later the storm swerved to the left and headed for the far reaches of the desert.

Soon afterward, they landed on the spacious rooftop of the Tionese ambassadorial compound.

The Yaka forcibly lifted Leia from her seat by her upper arms as though she was incapable of standing with her wrists in binders. They escorted outside to the turbolift and from there they descended several levels to a small arch-ceilinged antechamber. It was the type of space reserved for legal proceedings and ceremonies that needed to be consecrated on Tionese ground. The floors were made of the finest Tionese gold marble and richly embroidered tapestries curtained the walls. The tapestries depicted both historical scenes favoured by the Allied Tion Historical Society and assorted starfields. Across the highest point of the arch, round flags from the various nation-planets in the Hegemony hovered weightlessly, caught in a type of gentle and fluctuating repulsor field. She recognized the worlds of Brigia, Dellalt, Saheelindeel and Cadinth but there were three times as many more that she couldn't name.

One of Tion's adjuncts, a young man who was nonplussed at the sight of a distraught woman in oversized coveralls and straggling hair being roughly thrust about by the Yaka, delivered a fine silk scroll to the podium. There were a few stiff-backed blackwood chairs all in row facing the podium. Leia was ordered to stand before them.

Ambassador Tion, who had not deigned to speak to her on the flight, swished his expensive robes across the marble floors and reached for the scroll. "Let us begin," he said.

The cyborg bodyguards and lone adjunct each genuflected before him, one at a time on one knee, lowering their faces in obeisance and then rising. Then they arranged themselves beside the turbolift in a formal type of order.

With that, Ambassador Tion, also known as Lord Tion the Younger, addressed her at long last. "Leia Organa of Alderaan. Finally we meet in person."

Under different circumstances, Leia might have described the Ambassador as handsome in an aristocratic way. In that respect, he differed from his brother, whose thin-lidded eyes and lips had been almost reptilian. Ambassador Tion was lean and well dressed without being ostentatious, with sharply chiselled features and a touch of premature grey that aged him dramatically beyond his years. Meshakian medallions, finely crafted discs engraved with energy totems and widely believed to endow their wearer with wisdom and supernatural powers, were fashioned into an arc and glittered about his throat.

There was no doubt that his wealth and family connections had 'bought' him rapid advancement within the Sector, even his ambassadorial appointment. Indeed, he exuded wealth and power in a very subliminal manner, with the grace of one who had always had it. While his elder brother had briefly been a member of the Imperial Senate and later appointed by Emperor Palpatine himself to serve as an Imperial Task Force Commander (all the while striving to rise to an even higher position of authority), the younger Tion had somehow segued into service here. Leia wondered about that momentarily, before remembering that _Tion Industries_ based itself in the wild sector. Perhaps his elder brother had been the anomaly, making a career for himself in the Core, where the aristocratic refinement of Coruscant and other inner worlds appealed to beings all over the galaxy.

"Ambassador." Leia drew herself up haughtily and wasted no time expressing her extreme displeasure. "I've been brought here against my will and nearly killed in the process for reasons at which I can only speculate. Explain yourself."

"You know who I am and why you are here."

"I knew your brother many years ago. I don't know you." Mouth dry, she asked, "And what have you done with Han Solo?"

Han's efforts to protect her had been gallant but futile. One of the Shistavanen Wolfman had sprayed him in the face with a potent, foul-smelling liquid and he'd fallen to the floor of the vault with an angry cry of pain. And yes, she _knew _she was meant to run, but she'd crumpled beside him in anguish. Seconds later, the two over-sized humanoids bearing an array of cyborg implants had pried her from his body forcefully limb by limb.

"Solo is being taken care of by those interested in bringing him to justice." Tion loosened the ribbon that bound the silk in a roll and let it unfurl at arm's length. "Let us not tarry long on issues which needn't concern you in the near future. Let me proceed with your belated introduction to the laws of my homeworld."

"Senator Leia Organa, Princess of Alderaan: It is my duty to inform you that you have been tried and convicted by the Ancient and Honourable Union of the Tion Hegemony for the murder of one Tion on the date of 09.45.8876. Evidence and court documents support claims that in your father's home you slaughtered him with his own weapon in cold blood. By unanimous decision of the Corporate Sector Authority Judicial Review Board, seizure of your person and all possessions has been approved. Seizure of persons acting as your accomplice and their possessions has also been approved. Also approved unanimously by the said same Review Board is your extradition to the Ancient and Honourable Union of the Tion Hegemony's capital world of Jaminere. There you shall be executed in a manner worthy of the House of Tion: death by sword." Tion curled his upper lip and bared his teeth. "If you're lucky they'll behead you. If not, they'll take off your limbs one by one and then behead you."

Leia's extremities attempted to defy natural law and withdraw into her body as though they remembered that ancient period of physical formlessness in her mother's womb. Standing helpless before him, it occurred to her that the Ambassador preferred the Corporate Sector to the Core because his methods and means were subject to an entirely different form of law. Contemplating the ramifications, she closed her eyes tight and took a deep breath, begging her legs to support her.

Two weeks ago (or ten days ago? She'd lost count), an Ewok shaman wearing fifty kinds of teeth and feathers had tossed a handful of _story-pebbles_ in front of her feet and read her fortune. The century-old shaman had tugged on his whiskers and smoothed his fur, saying he saw children and marriage and a long life ahead of her. She hadn't believed him regardless of Threepio's assurances that every fortune the Ewok shaman told had come true. If their most recent battle – the Battle of Bakura - had taught her anything, it was that nothing was certain or guaranteed by the Alliance's victory at Endor.

Nothing was safe.

In her darkest moments of introspection, she steeled herself with that fact.

However, although Leia didn't believe in fortune telling and didn't believe that the universe catered to anyone, she could _hope_ with the best of them.

And she was particularly accomplished at losing her temper.

"_This is illegal_._"_ Floutingly, Leia marched one bold step closer to him. "The Alliance of Free Planets will be displeased when they learn that you're holding two of their citizens against their will and have violated your home sector's treaties with both the Empire and the Old Republic. You risk bringing the entire fleet to Tionese space. You risk a war."

The Ambassador was unperturbed. "We violate no treaty, Your Highness. Surely you're _not_ insinuating that the justice of the Tion Hegemony is inferior to that of your own fledgling government? One that isn't even recognised by more than a handful of planets?"

"It won't be such for long, Ambassador Tion. If I've been tried and convicted in absentia, then yes, the definition of justice within the Hegemony violates its treaty with the Old Republic and the Imperial Statues. I've not been allowed to present a defense. I've not been allowed to speak to a jury or granted council. You must release me or grant me access to a pleader and a hearing within the local judicial system."

"Oh no, Your Highness." Tion chuckled. The medallions about his throat shivered and clattered. "In case you've failed to comprehend this, we have a warrant that's quite legal here on Bonadan and legal throughout the entire system. The only time you'll be released in any capacity will be over to the proper authorities on our capital world Jaminere prior to your execution."

"I've been sentenced to death for a crime of which I am innocent. One for which there are no witnesses."

"Are you contesting that it was yourself who turned my brother's weapon upon him?"

"It was self-defense."

"He was a menace? A danger to you? Did he not enter your home of _your _own invitation? Did your own father not invite him to be his guest?"

"He thanked us graciously for our hospitality by attempting to kill us."

"My brother, fool that he was when it came to women, was infatuated with you. He wouldn't have harmed a hair on your head."

_So long as I'd kept my mouth shut… _"Circumstances proved differently, Ambassador."

"Our witness," Tion stated flatly, "told us otherwise."

"It was self-defense. That's all anyone could have confessed to you." _Witness? How can they possibly have a witness?_ Leia gazed at him in perplexity. She spoke automatically. "Everyone is dead."

"That's where you're mistaken. Our witness described the events as she saw them occur on holo-recording. It's all quite genuine, I assure you."

"I don't believe you," she challenged, thinking determinedly. There was _no one_…

_She?_

The binders encircling her wrists squished lower, greased with nervous sweat. The edges gouged the bones at the base of her thumbs.

Anunsolved mystery had arisen in Aldera, coincidentally, in the weeks after Lord Tion's death. One of the in-palace guards had vanished.

_Vanished_ wasn't precisely correct. The guard had left a farewell note in her own handwriting. However, her husband had stoically insisted that the wording didn't sound like her and that her actions were completely illogical. She'd left not only her husband but also two young sons and an ailing mother behind. After a quick review of the facts the Aldera policing force had determined that her disappearance warranted an investigation. The week after the investigation had begun, Leia had set off on the _Tantive IV_, and that mission had led her to the _Death Star's_ technical readouts. The mystery had subsequently been discarded to wherever she stored unanswerable questions from her life before. Now, what Leia recalled most vividly was that the in-palace guard had been one of the five people present near the great dining hall when the up and coming Imperial Commander had attacked her.

Leia stared at Tion. It would have taken unfathomable amount of brutal coercion to get the dedicated woman to lie, to write to her family and tell them that she was leaving. "Tyyla Arkana," she whispered hoarsely.

"Very good Princess. You've surprised me. I always imagined you were the type who forgot about the little people. Now shall we?"

Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment Leia believed that they were going to see Tyyla in person, that she was alive. The starfield tapestry suddenly dematerialized as though they'd made a jump to hyperspace while standing still and flown into a whiteout with a portal smack in the center. _Neat trick_, Leia thought, impressed despite the current circumstances. The tapestry was a transwall, a mirage created to protect secure areas or conceal the entrance to a secure area.

A command from Tion unlocked the trapezoidal portal as soon as he stepped near it.

The adjoining secret chamber contained a large hologram projector that took up most of the room. Again, there were several blackwood chairs lining the walls but Leia did not sit. Ambassador Tion pointed to the circular projector with a heavily ringed hand and snapped a few commands in his native tongue.

Then Tyyla Arkana returned to life, hovering above the projection panel, seated behind a desk and flickering with static. Her familiar broad features were unnaturally pale, in contrast to the ruddy complexion that Leia remembered. Her earthen hair was lacklustre and lank about her shoulders. The statements she gave described the family dinner as a premeditated trap. At Bail Organa's request, they had lured Lord Tion to the Organa estate with the pretence of reciprocal romantic interest from the young princess. There they had interrogated him at blaster-point for details of the Empire's _Death Star_. When he had refused to accede to their demands and betray the Empire, Bail Organa had ordered his daughter to execute him. The lies tumbled forth in a steady monotone, although Tyyla's eyes never did rise from the datapad she was reading.

It was like watching a ghost. Long after the recorder panned away from the woman, long after she might have arisen, Tyyla Arkana remained seated with her hands hidden below the lip of the table. There was something theatre-like about her pallor; it was as though white powder had been blotted over her flesh to conceal bruises or the broken spidery capillaries about the eyes that resulted from hours of screaming and strain. Her lips moved ever so slightly in the closing moments of the recording, as though she was speaking under her breath to herself. Leia strained to see, and coped with the indignity of having her eyes smart with furious tears when the few syllables developed meaning. They were spoken in her adopted father's native dialect, not Basic.

_Forgive me… _

Like all members of the Alderaanian Royal Guard, Tyyla had had extensive resistance training but nothing could have prepared the mother of two for Tion.

_Oh Tyyla I do_, Leia thought, hatred exploding in her heart, vowing to kill the Ambassador the first chance she had. She _would_ – for Tyyla's sake, for Han's sake - if it was the last thing she did. "How many…" She fumbled wretchedly for a stable tone, but her words and thoughts were ill-coordinated. "How many days of torture did it take to get her to lie?"

The Ambassador stepped nearer as if to assess her. "It is interesting that you ask."

"You killed her didn't you?"

"She took her own life."

"_Liar_."

"It's the truth, even if your youthful idealism forbids you to believe it of her. She hanged herself shortly after we recorded this. We monitored her cell night and day. There is indisputable proof if you need it."

"I don'tneed it. I know you killed her. Whatever you diddrove her to it."

The Ambassador strolled back into the antechamber. "Now you see, to make this look most official, I _think_ - to be quite frank with you before we begin negotiating - that it would be best for Tionese public records if you take full responsibility for your actions and the murder of my brother when you arrive on Jaminere." Tion turned and nestled an elbow into the heel of the opposing palm. He stroked his chin and studied her. "We certainly don't want any outside governments, such as your own Alliance, to be suspicious of our handling of these matters. We can record your confession en route if you wish."

The man's posture and mannerisms reminded her of Grand Moff Tarkin. She felt sick to her stomach again. At least Tarkin had been accountable to the Emperor's Council and to the other Sector Moffs. Her impression thus far that Tion was accountable to no one save himself. His belief in her culpability for his brother's death, no matter how delusional, was undeviating.

"Bear in mind," Tion continued, "that you may be able to convince them to extend you some compassion when they choose your means of execution. You were young; your father extended a certain degree of influence over you. Were you to claim your father took the initiative, ordered you to**-" **

"Save your breath!" Leia lurched through the portal after him. The Yaka mimicked her step for step behind Tion, fingers grazing the stunners attached to their belts in case she moved to attack. "I won't blaspheme my own name or my father's name so that you can turn this into a political coup. Your brother sold everyone out. He was corrupt and donated his soul to the Emperor for a chance at false glory in the New Order. He knew what the _Death Star_ was designed for - he knew what they would use it for and yet he sold out millions of lives to further his own career." Leia watched Tion's pale eyes harden across from her and sharpened her tone. "Your brother got what he deserved. So will you."

"It's all relative, your highness," he replied coldly. "Just as your home planet was guilty of harbouring terrorists and feeding the insurrectionists all the while it proclaimed it was devoted to its dear, dear, noble pacifism. It too, got what it deserved as well."

Her blood curdled in her veins. Forcing the tremor of rage from her tone, Leia straightened her shoulders and narrowed her gaze. "You'll rot in hell."

Tion spread his palms wide, eyes glinting with twisted anticipation. "I can see that I have my work cut out for me over the next few days and I have no doubts that I will succeed. Everything has gone according to plan so far."

"Even psychopaths get lucky once in a while."

The rejoinder only served to charm him. "Very funny. Tyyla didn't have your sense of humour and she wasn't half as pretty. I do expect to have my curiosity satisfied. You've heard of the Entuuran Resilience Test, haven't you? In the meantime I suggest you make yourself comfortable." Tion jerked his chin toward the pair of Yaka. "Take her."

The sentries quickly led her away. It was a relief, for Leia legs were quivering so violently that they were barely able to support her. The last thing she wanted was to humiliate herself by collapsing at Tion's feet in a fit of nerves. They proceeded through a series of double-shielded doors and into a series of wide passageways that were lined with cool sterile walls of glossy ivory and reflective metal. Security boxes, holo-cameras and blank security screens were stationed at increments along the hall. Large, broad glowboards were also stationed a meter or so apart. The excessive show of technology puzzled her until they reached the end of the hall. At the last security screen, one of the guards tabbed a switch. The screen promptly lit itself and the overhead image of a mid-sized cell appeared. The guard then pressed his palm over a photoplate. The dense lock-slabs slid open like the teeth of a massive mouth; she found herself peering into the same cell that was displayed on the outside view screen.

One Yaka shoved her roughly inside. The binders dropped from her wrists of their own accord and clattered to the floor just after the lock-slabs slammed shut.

The cell held only a cot and tiny fresher cubicle and it reeked of antiseptic cleaning agents. Overly shiny and reflective surfaces glared back at her from all angles. For the next fifteen minutes, Leia ran her hands over every centimetre of the room, searching for either a means of escape or an item that could be used as a weapon. She couldn't even pry the pipes apart from the basic fresher appliances, although she knew that even if she managed to succeed, in all probability the Yaka would burst into her cell and remove it from her. The illusion of privacy was just that.

Pulse fluttering like the wings of an Endorian hummingbird, Leia forced herself to drink from the spigots and rinsed her face. Then she sat on the edge of the cot, thought about what might be happening to Han and found herself on the verge of screaming.

_Think!_

_You can call for Luke, _her mind answered.

Luke had always said that she was made of one part durasteel, one part Andarian mettle, and one part the worst case of stubbornness he'd ever encountered in his life. Subsequently, her Force-sensitivity had been uncovered and he'd said it all made sense, that the Force had instinctively acted as her protector and saviour, helping her withstand her torture on the _Death Star_. It had enabled her to call to him when Xizor had held her prisoner; it had enabled her to save him in turn at Bespin. For years she'd assumed that whatever existed in the ether between her conscious mind and imminent death – that the source of her strength lay there. Always, she'd known that much. It just hadn't had a name until recently and she'd never paused to consider the possibilities.

_The Force_…

What had once been a magical and mythical power destined to restore the Old Republic was no more to her. In the template of her mind, the ancient and mystical energy lay bathed in darkness. Anakin Skywalker had embraced it. The Emperor had perverted it. It had driven from Luke all his innocence; it had crushed both his easy optimism and his idealism. While she knew that the Light Side was just as tangible and all-powerful as the Dark Side, her feelings regarding the Force were tainted by recent events and in turmoil; she'd thought it best that they kept their respective distances from one another. Now, the way that a dying man prayed to long neglected gods on his deathbed, she reached for it desperately, knowing deep down that no matter what promises she made to it, she would cast them aside later. She wasn't sure she cared which side of the Force answered her, so long as it empowered her against Tion.

Grimly, Leia knew that soon, whether or not she was conscious of it, whether she wanted to or not, at some point during the Ambassador's upcoming _negotiations_ a primordial part of her would cry out to her brother without her permission.

Her own hypocrisy stared her smack in the face.

Her brother's voice broke the quiet, so strong and clear he might have there been with her.

_We serve the Force. We do not beckon it to serve us. _

For what she wanted to do was strangle Tion with her will.

With her movements restricted due to the pain of her ribs, Leia lay flat on the thinly padded pallet with her hands folded over her stomach and tried to focus. She thought briefly of Luke again and then she closed her eyes and called to Han.

"_Soloooo, Soloooo_…"

The canine's guttural susurrations reverberated through the durasteel walls like the hum of a hyperdrive engine. For the second time in just over a standard month, Han Solo was blind as a newborn and captive. He scrambled for the far corner, feeling his way with his hands. "Stay back," he snapped, first in Basic, then in the Sector Standard. "Stay away from me."

"Don't be afraid." There came the sound of dense nails clicking against the floor, coming nearer. "Let us rinse out the poison."

"If it's so that I can see what's coming next, don't bother wasting your time."

"Nothing comes next."

A set of surprising gentle prehensile paws cupped his head and tipped it back. Against his instincts, Han didn't resist, even when something cold and wet trickled across his eyes and dribbled into his mouth. After a few seconds, he tried to lift a lid and decided that the liquid was not burning what was left of his eyeballs away after all. Better yet, instead of a red-tinged night, the biggest canine was morphing from a dark shadow to a fuzzy furry blob.

"Can you see us?"

"Kind of."

"Give it a few minutes."

The creature sounded remarkably… _humane_. As if it cared. Not as if he was a prisoner who didn't deserve an iota of kindness. Han wasn't sure what to make of the abrupt change in the guard's attitude. "What did you spray me with?" he asked.

"_Tox-resin_. It has no long lasting effects. It simply anaesthetised your vision, so to speak. We apologize. We had no choice to avoid harming you."

Han supposed his grandiose plans for an attack had left them with little option. "Where did Tion take the woman?"

"To the Embassy." The creature listed forward and ran its nose and whiskers along his shirt. "It is true. You are who they said you are."

"What? Did my smell make the canine Holonet channel?"

"Do you know the value of a favour?"

Han wiped droplets of the cleansing solution from his lips. "That really depends on who wants it and what it is."

"We _doooo_."

"Do what?"

"We owe you a favour."

Neither of them explained for what. They stood watching him, or Han thought they were watching him but he couldn't quite make out the particulars of their sinuous facial features quite yet. He was beginning to feel hopeful - cautiously hopeful – but hopeful just the same. "Why?

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"Eleven Shistavanen warriors, missing for years, returned home from the _Star's End_ facility at Mytus VII many years ago and proclaimed you a hero. One was my den-grandfather. So you might say, as humans like to, that I owe you a favour. I owe you a life."

"Oh." Han didn't remember seeing any shaggy warriors during the facility break but it was possible. There'd been hundreds and hundreds of prisoners running amok all over the tier blocks and stairwells, dodging blaster fire and returning it. In the chaos and bedlam, a tribe of quadruple-breasted Pa'lowicks might have run by him and he wouldn't have noticed. Hope beckoned like one of an ocean-covered planet's glow-beacons. Still, they hadn't explicitly said they would permit him to escape yet. "What do you want in exchange for my life?"

"Transport."

"Transport?"

"How many beings can you fit on your ship, Solo?"

"Human or your size?"

"My size."

"Maybe two dozen. Maybe thirty." He poked his forefinger into the sensitive spot between his right eye and the bridge of his nose, rubbing at it until he caught the grit flushed away by the cleansing solution. "We're not talking comfortable though. We're talking leg to leg, tail to head."

"My extended den is not so large," the creature replied. "Twenty-two here on Bonadan."

"I see." At least he thought he did. An entire den of Shistavanen wolfmen needed a transport _somewhere _and his ship was on the other side of the star system.

The canine's whiskered snout twitched. "If you agree to take me and my entire family home to Uvena Prime, I will help you. We will help you."

"Uvena Prime," Han thought aloud. The Uvena System was a three day journey and would be a miserable trip with twenty-two – no, twenty-four if he counted the creatures standing with him, crammed on-board the _Millennium Falcon_. Still, three days discomfort was considerably better than the various forms of imminent obsolescence that were awaiting him when the Espo arrived. Without thinking, Han stepped over to the vault's heavy swinging door saying, "I'll do it."

The furry biped blocked his path. "I want your shipboard access codes first."

"I'm not that stupid."

"I'm not that trusting."

Han shook his head. "It won't matter if I hand them over to you today or tomorrow. My ship isn't on planet."

"Where is it?"

"Reltooine."

The growling rumbles of disappointment from both creatures needed no translation. By now, his vision had improved to the point where the pair each appeared as a distinct member of their species. The one speaking sported a gleaming pelt that was various shades of deep brown. He stood two heads above Han and had the air of an alpha male about him. The second guard was slightly meeker; his pelt was like a battle-scarred patchwork blanket, with white, grey and black mottling its muzzle in a hideous design. One major incisor tooth and a left ear were conspicuously absent. Its lip curled up around the cratered gum as though it were sneering.

Sensing that his serendipitous escape plans might collapse before he exited the vault, Han started talking fast. He knew he wouldn't be this lucky twice in a lifetime, let alone twice in a day. "If you can get me to Reltooine," he insisted gallantly. "I'll return with my ship for the pick-up. I'm a man of my word. You tell me where and I'll be there. Reltooine is a major port world. There's sure to be a shipping liner or space barge headed there. Or a cruise ship. You name it. All I need is the fare."

The pair conspired briefly with a series of growls and grunts. "What's not a lot to you is our yearly earning. We will need to accompany you."

"I've got cash on my ship. I'll reimburse you." Han twitched nearer to the hall, restless to get moving and avoid any upcoming appointments Tion had scheduled for him. "Do we just walk out or what?"

It was decided.

"Yes." The brown Shistavanen ostentatiously flexed its claws. "There is a back entrance we can use."

A gravsled driven by yet another fierce-looking canine was waiting for them outside, where overhead a large billboard sported advertisements for _Tion Industries and Starfreight_. All three piled into the rear compartment. Han was ordered to the crawlspace between the front and rear seats and suffered the indignity of perching awkwardly on the balls of his feet in between two pairs of hirsute calves. This was firstly necessary to avoid sitting on their feet. Secondly, their simple thigh-length tunics were for decoration not modesty; actually _sitting_ would have subjected him to a Shistavanen biology lesson he was perfectly happy to go through life without.

When _Tion Industries and Starfreight_ headquarters were far behind them they completed a round of formal introductions. The tall one was called Thalus, the ugly one was called Mooz, and the driver was called something that began with a 'K' and erupted into a series of vowels that were unpronounceable by humans.

Han began with the next phase of his plan. "We just need to make one stop before we hit the spaceport."

"Where?" Thalus asked.

"Tion's embassy."

"That is not part of the agreement."

"Then the agreement…." Han raised himself off of the floor and assumed a seat by the window, nudging Mooz to the center seat. Experience sharing space with a Wookiee had taught him it was better to demand a place than ask for it. "The agreement is off."

"We believed you are a man of honour."

"If anything happens to her that man will be dead."

Thalus's slitted irises treated him to a Shistavanen death-stare. "If you don't agree to our terms _you _willbe dead?"

"I stand corrected," Han replied. "We'll do it your way. You'll both go with me, just like you said."

"Good."

Han crossed his arms and pretended to observe the cityscape with interest. After a minute, he faked a series of low boisterous chuckles.

"What is funny?"

"Just thinking."

Mooz and Thalus eyed him suspiciously. "Of what?"

"Nothing much." He brushed a few feathery canine hairs from his shirtsleeves. "I guess you den-dwellers don't know much at ship-jacking do you? I've had my ship boarded before by types deadlier than you are and done away with them easily. You probably wouldn't know even how to disarm the security system if I did give you the codes." Han lowered his voice. "And you know, everything – and I mean _everythin_g - on that ship is programmed to recognize my voice and my commands. I've installed every security failsafe on the black market and have ten hiding places for spare weapons. I have stun-steps and electromagnetic shock fields running from cabin to cabin, as well as the emergency locks set up to space anyone I drive into them. You ever heard of that? You drop an unprotected body out an airlock and it ain't pretty. The first thing that happens is their eyes burst-"

Thalus snarled. "Why is this funny? Why are you telling us this?"

"It's over a day from Reltooine to Bonadan."

"And?"

"What do you think the odds are of you making it if I don't decide to play along?"

Mooz's pupils had rounded to small moons. Han almost felt sorry for him.

"I could be lying, of course. But you won't know that until I drop your body out an airlock. On the other hand…" _You are not going to make this deal_, Han thought. _You have lost your mind_. "If we retrieve the woman first, you can keep her as collateral until we return for your family."

"Rescuing her will be dangerous," Thalus replied.

"In case the news-flash hasn't hit you yet…" Han flashed the broadest grin he could muster. "Bringing my ship in to Bonadan is going to be just as dangerous."

When they came for Leia later on, she was not asleep.

The lock-slab separated with a grinding clamour. One of the Yaka marched forward holding something familiar.

"What do you want?" she asked.

Into her hands it shoved a wad of fabric - specifically, the navy clingsilk dress with the spiraling braided patterns she'd bought two days ago in the subterranean mallplex. The one she hadn't had occasion to wear before they'd fled from Trade City. The Ambassador's henchmen had obviously been to the _Novaplex_ and taken their belongings from the suite.

"You're to put this on and join the Ambassador for dinner," he said.

She tossed her head and let the fine silk slip from her fingers and pool at her feet. "Oh, I don't think so."

The pale soulless face addressed her imperiously as though she was nothing more than a common slave on Cylus II. "You will obey."

"I won't-" she began, but thought better of it. With two men three times her size in the portal-way, the threat needed no elucidation.

Stomping over to the open fresher unit, she performed a minimum of washing up activities. Then she unbound her hair and attempted to style it, but extending her arms behind her neck proved too painful. She gave up and left it partially knotted. After that, she slipped the expensive dress over her head and removed the coveralls at the same time, taking care to uncover as little of herself as possible in the process. The zephyr silk brushed across her skin like a fine summer breeze or a lover's caress, but just as quickly it clung to her. Nervous sweat already trickled down her back. The more she moved about, the more she realized she was still shaky from the sedative they'd used to sedate her.

She contemplated her options bleakly.

_If I'm going to die_, _so be it, but I'm going to do my damndest to take him with me._

Securing the resolution firmly, Leia perched on the edge of the cot and folded the coveralls into a pleated mass on her lap.

Security planners generally strove to set interrogation chambers and pleader centers within the cellblocks and detention centers. It was rudimentary mathematics. The less distance a prisoner travelled, the less chance he or she had to escape or cause general mayhem. The tiny detention center in the bowels of the Embassy was no different. They transferred her across the hall to a larger cell where a repulsor-table drifted gently in the center of the room. Two ordinary hard-backed chairs flanked it. The smell of fine foods promptly set her stomach in knots again, only now, it was torn between nausea and hunger.

Leia proceeded to the table with as much grace and courage as she could summon; she was light-headed and still sore all over.

Ambassador Tion was already waiting. With gentlemanly precision he rose and rearranged her seat, sweeping the folds of his cloak behind him. He was armed with only a rolled cord, the handle of which was fastened to the belt at his waist. "Good evening, Your Highness. The dress is beautiful. You look lovely in it."

There were necessary plans of action, things she would do in order to escape and things she wouldn't. With uneasy dread, Leia mentally staked out an invisible line for herself and sat delicately on the edge of the chair. The most she could hope for was that she wouldn't remain conscious for very long.

"Would you care for something to eat? Chandrilan tendermeat and baked spring celtroots? Andorrian roe?"

"I'm not hungry."

"A pity. My staff chef is worthy of the Emperor. He trained at the _Riiinz Culinary Institute_ on Coruscant. I do enjoy taking the time to sit down in a more formal setting with my guests to discuss the issues beforehand."

"Guests? How refined of you. Have you ever dined with a Hutt?" Leia arched an eyebrow with derision and pretended to scan him scornfully, all the while checking the exits (there was only the one she'd come in by) and calculating sprinting times from her seat back out the portal. "I have. They have a better sense of ambience than this, come to speak of it, even with the slime and rodents."

"I would have expected Bail Organa to raise you better? Petty insults are not flattering to a woman of your position."

"Prisoner, you mean. I had no idea proper etiquette existed for imprisonment," she said sarcastically.

"Prisoner?" Tion's eyes were like Hoth's skies, ice cold and unforgiving. "Convicted murderess."

"If that's true then perhaps the time has come for you to alert the Alderaanian Embassy to my extradition."

Tion slowly unrolled his cutlery from a dinner napkin. "I think not."

"You have nothing to be concerned about unless what you're doing is illegal." Leia gave her own napkin a grab. It flopped over in her hand, limp and empty.

"Not illegal." Tion smiled so that his oddly youthful features almost beguiling. "No Your Highness, of course I wouldn't be foolish enough to give you a knife. Eat with your fingers if you find your appetite. The Hegemony no longer recognises Alderaan as a sovereign world for obvious reasons - approximately one point five billion or so floating in the Alderaan System." The statesman lifted a piece of rare tendermeat in his mouth. "Do tell me; what is it like to have your entire world gone?"

Leia dug the edges of her nails into her palms and sucked in her breath until the pain in her side was like a lance. "It's none of your business."

"Perhaps later you'll be feeling more talkative. In the meantime, I'll simply ask you if you've considered my offer."

"Dishonouring my name and that of my father's for you?"

"In exchange for a more lenient death sentence." He reminded her as though they were discussing a business transaction and not an execution.

The air in the room was cold. Leia shivered and felt her skin prickle but stifled the urge to rub at her bare arms. There were several sets of padded restraints attached to the open walls and precious little else save the spartan dinner ensemble. She should flee but there was no escape. She should know how to handle Tion but she couldn't gather a strategy or means of diplomacy; personal vendettas were the type to be feared the most. She should not think of Han and yet his name kept running a staccato beat through her mind.

_Luke, help me._

_Help Han_.

Except she couldn't focus and he was so very far away.

She stared at the shimmering Andorrian roe spread across her plate like gold lace. Perhaps her food was laden with spice or chemicals that would lower her defences and make her lose control of her wits or spill Alliance secrets. Or, perhaps it was poisoned and would leave her retching and feverish on the stone floors for hours. She wouldn't put any of the possibilities past Tion and yet, her instincts reassured her that to do any such thing would go against his perversely aristocratic sense of decorum.

"I wonder," she asked idly, "does the Hegemony advocate this sort of information gathering and case-assembly?"

"As long as justice is served in the end."

"Yet this is a mockery of justice."

"They will ask no questions and my brother's death will be avenged."

_Alderaan will never be avenged_ she thought bitterly, but it was an iteration oft contemplated and never resolved. She lifted the goblet to her lips in an effort to steady the adrenaline spiking throughout her system and to buy time. The longer she kept Tion talking, the more likely the opportunity for escape might make itself known. "You never said how you obtained that message from General Solo's friends or how they came to play in all of this?"

"No I didn't."

"I'm curious."

"Opportunity. Mutually beneficial interests collided, you might say. The message stumbled into the hands of one of my government associates. Although Bonadan officials kept Solo on their specs for a year or so, he never arrived seeking the girl. She was released and moved on. They gave up expecting him. In the meantime, I've been following your career as a rebel all along. My sources informed me that you had actually undertaken a mission to rescue Solo from a crime-lord on Tatooine?"

For a moment Leia didn't realize the comment was a question. "Yes. I did."

Tion nodded. "I didn't believe it. The initial plan was to hold Solo hostage until you came for him. We had no idea you'd be with him to begin with."

_Han_ was the lure?

_Had been_, all along.

"And of course, we weren't expecting you both to flee to Kahlis after leaving the Authority Tower. Fortunately, we'd placed a long-range sensor tag in Solo's comlink when he visited the Direx."

At this, Han would have been impressed. The Alliance brass would have been impressed. Leia had never encountered a long-range sensor tag small enough to pack inside a comlink, but she knew that the Corporate Sector was famous for its advanced technology. "My death won't bring your brother back," she intoned quietly.

"No, no it won't. Let me ask you this though: Did you summon him to your Cantham House residence with a solitary intention that was not based on using him in order to benefit from what he knew?"

"Our intentions were to discover more about the _Death St_ar."

"Then you admit you are culpable – at least for inviting him under false pretences. And those pretences, were he to refuse or discover your trickery, could only have led to his death. He would have been acting in the name of the Empire against you. So then you see, responsibility for his death indeed rests on your shoulders."

"That's a ludicrous manipulation of logic. Since when does _this_ Sector honour the Emperor?"

"We don't. But I shall return home a hero for bringing you to justice. I shall be welcomed with traditional celebrations and parades, honoured and respected by the royal families of the Tion star cluster. It shall all be thanks to you."

Leia's throat began to close in itself. "Why?"

"The current King is dying," Tion murmured solemnly, moving his hand from heart to temple in a gesture of respect. "They'll be nominating members of the Royal family to replace him by season-turn."

"And I'm your ticket to a nomination?"

"You might say that."

"That's not democracy," she hissed… "It's… It's… " The Ambassador sought nothing less than supreme sovereignty in his home sector. And she was nothing more than a pawn, a means of manipulation set to bring him one step closer to his vision. On the verge of spitting back a caustic remark, Leia suddenly she found herself making an offer that had been undetermined beforehand. Nothing would alter her fate but she could alter _his_. "Perhaps there is room to bargain after all," she ventured.

"What say you?"

Leia drew in her spine and raised her chin. "I want Han Solo released. Were you to release him and show me proof of it, you might find yourself in possession of what you want after all."

Tion waved his hand through the air. "Solo is already gone. Out of my care. He's to be handed over to the interested members of the CSA. They've been alerted to his capture and are on their way as we speak. It's too late."

Leia gulped down a silent sob.

"To tell the truth I hadn't expected you to accede with so little prompting, although that particular deal is off the table. I'd be tempted by the entreaty were I not liberated from the choice. As it stands, everything remains mine for the taking and I'm looking forward to it. I expect that I'll be intimately acquainted with everything about you by the time we part ways." Tion set one elbow on the table and leaned forward. The table wobbled ever so slightly. "The great _Toro-toral_ philosophers of Avogwi say that when only the individual self is at stake, a person under duress will stand the gaff, bear up under the most excruciating of methods of persuasion longer than when they are protecting others? Why do you think that is?"

Leia suppressed another shiver and eyed the table. Would one firm shove yank it completely off the magnetic field? It wasn't exactly her choice of weapon, but it would provide a distraction. "Their philosophy is centered around a love of battle and personal heroism," she answered, again taking up her wine and pretending to drink it. It was red and bubbly. She sniffed disdainfully. "Is this all there is to drink?"

"You'd like something else?"

"Something green, if you have it. Preferably casked before the war."

"Of course." Tion smiled approvingly at her selection and snapped his fingers in thin air. "In my personal experience it's an unfounded philosophy when applied to humans. Time and time again the individual yields the self before the group. The sublimely virtuous and the rapturously innocent amongst them." He stabbed at his tendermeat again. "There are exceptions, of course. The old Jedi Knights, for example, from what I've read."

"The Jedi Knights were trained to serve the Force, to serve others, not themselves," Leia volunteered. "The Force also enables them to withstand what others can not."

"_Enables_," he repeated, as though fascinated by her use of the present tense. "You know one, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Luke Skywalker. Yes, that's his name. His past experiences would shed some insight on the matter at hand – from a more modern perspective, not one dredged up from black market history datafiles and so on."

A trained Jedi who served the Light lived stoically prepared to sacrifice his or her life if the time came. Like all mortals, they could be tempted by the same desires and wants that enticed all living creatures. However, the Jedi also faced temptations that would never matter to an ordinary Force-blind person. There was more than one path. With Tion's heavy gaze upon her, Leia summoned the image of Ben Kenobi lowering his lightsaber on the _Death Star_, allowing Vader to cut him down. She said, "In the years I have known him, Luke Skywalker he has always been true to the will of the Force, no matter what it cost him."

It was nearly true. When he had abandoned his training to come for her on Bespin, it had been Luke's own will that commanded him, not the will of the Force. But that was none of Tion's business.

"I hear fondness in your voice. You know him well."

"I do."

"Will he come looking for you? When you don't return?"

Leia placed her upturned palms flat against the underside of the table. She could feel the light pressure of the repulsor field against her skin although the table remained steady. "The Force shall will it," she whispered.

"Should I fear for my life?"

There was the faintest click of the portal behind her.

Leia said, "He'll kill you," and slammed the repulsor-table up with all of her strength.

She was lucky.

The Yaka toting the wine was only halfway into the chamber and didn't know quite what to do with his high-priced delivery. In the second it took him to realise that dropping the tray was his only course of action, Leia ducked beneath his outstretched arm, through the door and into the hall. The second Yaka was just outside the door, but she banked left and began sprinting with every ounce of strength in her body in the hopes of outrunning him.

After sailing past a dozen security boxes and security screen, the wide hall took a sharp turn. Leia struggled to catch herself on the wall and force her body to bank right. She almost made it. Three steps forward and something yanked hard on her loosened tresses. At the same time, she heard the sound of hundreds of credits worth of zephyr silk shredding and felt cool air kiss her back. Balance lost, she tumbled to the decks and moved to roll back onto her feet, but quick as lightning, the Yaka had applied a type of pressure-squeeze between her neck and collarbone that rendered her unable to move at all. Then he picked her up carried her back to the interrogation chambers, where he dropped her at Tion's feet.

She landed with a crack on both knees.

You shouldn't have done that." The Ambassador loomed over her, splattered with red wine and beads of Andorrian roe. A lock of silver hair fell across his forehead. "I was almost beginning to regret whatever hurt I had planned for you. Now I look forward to it."

"I thought it was worth a try," Leia managed through clenched teeth, helpless and mercilessly winded by the aftershock of slamming both kneecaps onto the duracrete. Her instincts screamed at her to draw herself into a ball, to do anything to shield her body, yet she couldn't.

"My brother overlooked both your intelligence and resourcefulness."

"He was slime."

"Yes, I know." The cord he wore had come unravelled and the hilt was humming and flickering with tiny lights. It was an elegant weapon and the way he handled it promised a certain degree of finesse. "This is one of my many amusements," he explained. "Every time it strikes it releases dozens of electronic and chemical charges beneath the skin. While the pain is extraordinary and lasts for quite some time, physical damage is rarely permanent. Being struck in the face with it is supposed to be an agony unto itself, second only to a few other creative means of using it." Tion touched her jaw lightly. "Of course Your Highness, we certainly won't do anything to your lovely face."


	8. Chapter 8

Although the teeming inner hub of the Trade City metropolis never ceased bustling, activity in the sprawling residential areas subsided slightly after dark. That made their task easier, by a few degrees at least. The odd-looking rescue team studied the complex from the tiny public garden down the block while they debated a means of infiltration. Han's first impression of security at the tri-level Tionese style building was that it wasn't thattight. Blast-proof tinted windows blocked him from seeing inside but only two human guards stood in front of the main entrance. There were probably cleverly disguised holo-recorders stationed about and sure be more guards inside, but Han had broken into better protected facilities in the course of his lifetime and walked away with nary a scratch.

Elsewhere in the city and presumably at that very moment, two dozen Shistavanen wolfmen were packing their most treasured belongings and preparing to go into hiding. After they rescued Leia, Han, Thalus and Mooz would take one gravsled directly to the Northeast Starport. The back-up gravsled would transport Leia to a safehouse outside the metropolis city limits. That was where Thalus and Mooz's extended families would soon also rendezvous. When the CSA and Ambassador Tion discovered the empty vault, they weren't going to waste any time pondering where to look first. As a precaution, the entire den was going into hiding. If all went well, the _Falcon_ would be touching down on Bonadan in a matter of days to collect the lot.

That was if Han could figure out a way to scam the planetary sensors and bring his ship down to the surface undetected…

Han suggested that it might be best to scale the walls to the upper balconies and then find a means of entry on the second level. They weren't likely to be seen by passers-by and they would avoid the tighter main level security.

"_Noooo_," his new partners hissed at him.

"Then what do you suggest?"

They growled and grunted amongst themselves until Han considered seizing them both by the scruffs of their necks and knocking their over-sized heads together. Trying not to get ahead of himself, he smacked a palm down and accidentally flattened the bulbous stem of a _yumi_. "Can the committee come to a consensus before next year?

"We have an idea," Thalus announced slowly as beside him, Mooz's patchwork-coloured fur rippled as though his skin itched. "The guards will recognize us from the Tion Industries and Starfreight headquarters. We will tell them that we must meet with the Ambassador immediately. You wait. We will take care of them."

"They'll go for that?"

"They have no reason to suspect otherwise. We've come before."

Wanting to believe them, Han grabbed for the ancient pair of electrobinoculars the duo had produced from the gravsled's utility compartment, zoomed in and adjusted the lighting. Just as he'd feared, the outline of an object too large to be a comlink glinted in the moonlight along one of the guard's belts. "They're armed," he warned. "Unless I'm imagining things." _Which I just might be with a near-concussion and hefty dose of sleeping gas still twitching inside my veins._ "Last time I checked weapons were illegal here."

"On Bonadan yes, however that parcel of land belongs to the Tion Hegemony," the lanky Shistavanen explained. "They will be no problem for us. But once inside we will have to deal with the Yaka cyborgs. Then we will worry."

"Who's worried?" Han replied in deadpan tone, stepping aside in order to avoid flying hair as Mooz broke into a ferocious bout of scratching. "Tactical suicide isn't my idea of fun." Personally, Han thought any armed foe, even a highly advanced Gamorrean, would be preferable to the towering mounds of genetically engineered muscle. "I met one of the ogres this morning. I didn't like him."

The back-up gravsled arrived and parked behind them. Thalus flipped his ears forward curiously. "He probably didn't like you either. They have very few emotions and will serve to the death."

"Terrific." Han wiped a palm covered in sweat and clear sticky _yumi_ juice on his thigh. He said, "What are we waiting for?"

They pair of bipeds hustled down the sidewalk and up the main walkway lined with both fragrant shrubs and the ubiquitous Bonadan holo-ad stations. Han watched, wondering how it was that two of the Ambassador's best retinue were willing to betray him for a lift out-of-system. Hell, when it came down to it, he didn't want to know, so long as they got Leia out and if Tion had done so much as lay a finger on her…

Thalus and Mooz experienced no difficulties approaching the guards. After a brief conversation, one of the guards unlocked the heavy door and waved them inside. No sooner had Mooz and Thalus stepped inside than two sets of hairy paws reached outside and hauled the guards in after them. Han heard a series of muffles shouts and thumps. He counted to ten and dashed down the block after them, tossing the electrobinoculars into the shrubbery.

Mooz held the main door open for him. Behind him, the human guards lay in a heap on the elegant foyer flooring.

Han paused to say, "Good work," on his way in.

"That was the easy part," Thalus reminded him.

"I _knew_ you'd say that."

As it was late at night, the main offices and lobby inside the embassy were closed. Han snagged a blaster from an unconscious guard and set a new personal record disabling every security camera in sight. Then he began inspecting the surveillance station and adjoining consoles. The station was similar to the Mer-Sonn 57C unit favoured in Imperial military installations, although a few modifications and upgrades had been made to it. The clearance scanners all required retinal and palm scans or voiceprints, and blasting or tampering with the controls would likely set an automatic lockdown into effect.

Regardless, they were going to have company very soon.

Han grumbled a string of spacer's epithets under his breath and contemplated his options. _When in doubt_ _let the danger come to you_, he decided two breaths later. He hunkered down behind the surveillance station and waved the others around with a nod and a finger pressed to his lips.

Looking puzzled, the wolfmen imitated him anyway, drawing in their long limbs until they looked like awkwardly folded furballs. Han double-checked the power pack on the appropriated blaster until the cautionary pulser in the grip flutter lightly. Meanwhile the Shistavanen unclasped lethal looking shivs from their tunic belts, forgoing the assorted stunners and sprays. The shivs had side handles with three large holes bored in them. Mooz promptly shoved his fingers through the holes, then extended his claws and wiggled them like miniature swords in a warm-up. Then he performed the same ritual with the second shiv. Han pondered the surplus of hand-to-hand weapons, then remembered reading that the species had some sort of genetic defect that made it impossible for them to line up a clean straight shot – something to do with the angled position of their eyes. They were specifically trained for close-up dirty physical fighting.

Within a minute the portals swished open and pale-skinned giants streamed into the main foyer. They sported reflective energy gear from head to toe and were armed only with beam tubes - crude, prehistoric weapons popular in the Tion Hegemony that were deadly when wielded by skilled marksmen. The beam tubes had detachable power packs that sagged heavily from their shoulders but the weight didn't faze them; in fact, their glazed eyes were devoid of anything human, even fear.

Han leapt up and shouted, "_Surprise,_" and the real mayhem began.

He pumped off several short-range blasts.

The first volley of shots left a smouldering hole in the center of the point Yaka's chest. In the split seconds after, the canines sprang in tandem over the security station, flashing their knuckle-shivs and making all kinds of fearsome sounds. With their claws out, they were able to cut and slash in virtually any direction. Several of the Yaka crumpled. Han managed to take down one more, and then a skewed shot blasted the beam tube from a proximate Yaka's grip and grazed its side. It lunged toward him.

Han's shot _should_ have been easy. At point-blank range, all he had to do was fire. Unfortunately, when he squeezed the blaster's press plate, the only sound it made was a soft _click_.

The weaponless cyborg roared at him and charged behind the security station. Before he could look up, the snarling mass of humanoid flesh toppled him to the ground and the entire room darkened over.

Desperate, Han fought to drive him off by any means possible but could only feel the lethal grip of its meaty fingers closing around his throat and sharp pointy elbows digging into his diaphragm. The Yaka was three times his size and the elementary laws of gravity were enough to render him helpless beneath it. Han struggled in vain to strike the cyborg's face or gouge at an eye, but managed only to dig his fingers into a bicep. Just when it seemed as though his neck might collapse and all feeling in his arms and legs had been reduced to a far-away tingle, the monstrosity released him and floated away.

Han put a hand to his throat and lay still.

Mooz and Thalus nudged his hip with their toes and sniffed the air. "Are you dead?"

"No." A pair of furry arms assisted him and Han scrambled to his feet, gulping air gratefully. "Thanks. I owe you."

Mooz promptly laughed like a Wookiee high on _Ubiqqi _leaves.

Han didn't know what the unsightly wolfman found so humorous about a few words of gratitude, so he reviewed the remnants of the battle in the Embassy's foyer and set about removing the blast vest/power pack combinations from his would-be murderer. Although six Yaka sentries had been immobilized, the portals to the secured areas of the embassy were still sealed. Han swore loudly. His grand plan had been to take a wounded Yaka hostage and use it to get through the security checkpoints to the detention area; unfortunately, that plan had hinged on taking one of them alive. In the aftermath of the fight, it was apparent that the Yaka would not cooperate so long as their hearts were beating.

Seeing no other option, Han seized the beam tube in one hand and grabbed the dead giants by the wrist with the other. With Thalus's help, he dragged him around the base of the console station and hoisted the meaty palm to the scanner. The door opened with a hum. They dragged the body a few more feet and propped it across the opening as a barrier.

The halls split into three directions. To his left was a formal antechamber with eddying gold marble floors where the prominent features were a series of tapestries, a set of overhead flags and an elegant podium. To his right was a long hallway through which he genuinely expected a legion of the Ambassador's best cyborgs to come charging any moment. Straight ahead of him was a set of foreboding double-shielded hatchways. Instinctively, Han knew that was the direction he wanted to go.

Except that security scanners blinked idly in every direction.

"Mother of all fu-"

Thalus squeezed through the doorway, wiping greasy blood from his knuckle-shiv onto his tunic. "Mooz is making you a key," he informed him, very seriously, beginning to lick the few remaining patches of blood from his shiv.

"A key?" Han silently berated himself. He hadn't even thought to search them for a standard type of key. Then his brain filtered back the '_making_' part.

_Making?_

Seconds later, Mooz arrived with the 'key'.

Instinctively, Han's stomach churned violently in protest. Feeling unusually scrupulous, he had a funny feeling (or flash of carnivorous insight due to Thalus's continued licking) that under different circumstances Mooz might want to eat the 'key'. But there was no other way to go about this. Feigning gratitude, he said, "All right. You two stay here and hold off any more of them. I'll be back."

Grimacing, he pressed the key up over the screen beside the double-shielded doors. Both sets opened for him.

The hall was long and well-lit and there was one guard at the far end. Luckily, it hadn't been alerted by any central alarm system and Han had the advantage of surprise when he blasted a particle-beam in his direction. Unfortunately, the ancient weapon was devised for two-handed use and the unsteady shot missed the Yaka by several centimetres. Wrist aching under the strain, Han used his knee to jostle the weapon upright and fired again just as the wall over his head exploded in wave of crackling thunder. Hot air blasted out of the cooling motors and into his face but he was lucky. The guard collapsed into a colourful lump at the end of the hall.

Feeling that it was only logical that the guard was protecting _someon_e, Han sprinted past several glowboards until he saw Leia folded in a heap on her pallet through the square view screen. He pressed the key against the palm-screen, and seconds later the toothed lock-slab was dragging itself apart.

"Rise and shine Sweetheart," he called.

"Han!" Leia flew from the pallet and was kissing his face with her hands wound tight about his biceps before he knew what hit him.

"I've got to get you out of here."

"I was coming for you as soon as I could," she replied, as though the notion had been more concrete than a child's pipe-dream.

"Uh huh. And I'll love you for it lots later." As he said that, Leia drew back in horror, her eyes fixed on the object he was carrying. _Yes, I'm just crazy enough to waltz through here holding a hairy humanoid hand_. "Key," he said, as though that explained everything.

They moved cautiously back the way he had come. Thalus was posed menacingly with one thickly padded foot propped up on the back of the deceased Yaka, a warm-blooded sculpture above the prize kill of the hunt. Leia stopped dead in her tracks and collided with his chest. The last time she had seen the wolfman had been at the Starfreight headquarters.

"He's with me," Han declared. "You can trust him."

"He's with you…" Leia glanced distractedly into the side antechamber. "Wait." She pointed. "In here. We have to get something first."

Han wanted to scream at her. _Escaping_ was important. "What?"

"Data..."

"We must hurry," Thalus growled.

"Data?" Han wagged his head resolutely. "Are you mad? We have a transport waiting outside and I don't know how many seconds until some type of security force swoops down-"

"It'll only take a second."

"_No_."

Leia clamped her lips together and shoved briskly past him into the antechamber. "Then I'm not going with you."

Han sighed elaborately with an upward toss of his head and Thalus's moist leathery nostrils shivered wide with either amusement or contempt. Of course she would issue him an ultimatum under the worst of circumstances. "In thirty seconds I'll toss her over my shoulder and haul her out," he mumbled apologetically. "Hang on."

By then she was poking at a particularly starry tapestry across the antechamber.

"Damn it! What are you doing?"

"It's fake." She slapped an open palm against it with frustration. To Han's surprise, the effort made a loud _thwack _as though she'd struck a smooth surface and not a hanging carpet. "It's a transwall."

Han studied it for a moment. Transwalls were subject to the ordinary laws of physics and small artillery fire. Unless of course, the transwall was blast-proof, but if it were then there would be little reason to conceal the portal with fancy images and tricks on the eye. "The beam tube," he suggested. "That should break her."

Seconds later, the high-intensity particle beam was burning the tapestry from the center outward like a sun going nova. As the wall-sized galaxy collapsed, the trapezoidal portal behind it came into focus. The housing for the security system dissolved easily and filled the air with the cloying scent of melted wired and circuitry. Soon they could manually pry the portal ajar. Leia dashed inside while Han unsnapped the heavy artillery vest and beam tube and tossed the burdensome lot to the floor. Inside the secret room was an enormous CS-Mark 12 hologram projector.

Leia was already tearing out input slots.

"Clarify. What kind of data?"

"Tyyla Arkana."

"Who the hell is…"

"Just… _look_! Flat discs, textfiles like holo-recordings, anything."

Han tore the computer interface component loose from beside the primary controls. Everything played or recorded on a hologram projector was first temporarily stored on the internal computer while the system prepared to construct its three-dimensional image and accompanying sounds. Considering that the room was hidden behind a transwall, it was quite unlikely that they wiped this projector very often.

Both their travel bags from the _Novaplex_ were resting beneath the operator's controls. pausing to wonder, he picked them up and dropped the interface component inside. Leia added a folding-file containing marked data crystals. "Is that it?"

She listed up against the projector's frame. "There's a bug in your comlink. Get rid of it now."

Han unclipped his comlink from his belt and cracked it sideways against the projection paneling. The comlink shattered easily; the fingernail-sized tracking device fell to the floor. It was nothing more than a flimsy wafer of compressed gold microchips. "Well I'll be damned."

"Impressive stuff," Leia agreed. A trace of genuine enthusiasm broke through the weariness in her voice. She'd begun baring her teeth with each breath again as though the boneknitter hadn't taken effect earlier and her eyes were rimmed by blue puffiness. "I'd bring it back to the Alliance to be replicated by our technicians if I didn't think someone _somewhere_ was sitting crunched over a display screen watching our every step on Bonadan."

"They traced us to Kahlis."

"Yes." Leia lowered her voice to a whisper as though they might be caught eavesdropping. The borrowed coveralls rustled as she reached up to set a hand on his elbow. "There's something I have to tell you."

"We don't have time for this."

"You were the bait. It was me all along."

Han's mind went blank. He noticed that her bare feet were covered with layers of grime and dirt. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You came for me."

The rush of responsive emotion embarrassed him. "Sweetheart, it wouldn't be a vacation without at least one good rescue," he quipped.

Leia smiled weakly. "_This _was a vacation? Stars help me."

In five minutes he was going to dump in her into the hands of a den of wolfmen, one of whom had been slurping Yaka blood off his shiv only seconds ago. Mooz and Thalus had saved his life not once, but possibly twice today; there was no reason to doubt them. But he had no idea what the rest of their den would think of their grand escape plan, or what they thought of humans.

And there was no time to explain. One of his allies chose that moment to release a long harried howl of warning. "We're gonna have company real soon," he muttered, slinging the bags over his shoulder and moving back into the antechamber.

Leia fell into step beside him. "Those Shistavanen warriors are really with you?"

"It's a long story."

"They usually are."

"Yeah? Well you're not gonna believe this one," he began to say, just as a shadow of movement from within the turbolift graced his peripheral vision.

There came the shriek of rushing air and a series of fiery slaps that bit through his right arm and the side of his face. Shouting in pain, Han dropped the bags and dove low, aiming for the attacker's midsection. He knocked him cleanly off-balance and brought him to the floor in a tumble of sinewy muscles and stinging electrodes.

It did the trick.

Han was able to somersault back onto his feet and kick the neuronic whip out of the way before it could be recovered.

Ambassador Tion the Younger recovered his footing as well, coiling his body as though he intended to spring like a nashtah. "You're not going anywhere Solo."

"It's too late Ambassador." Leia reached down and deactivated the whip just as Thalus stepped inside with his knuckle-shivs out again.

Tion turned to his hired guard. "Seize him," he ordered, but Thalus didn't budge. The beleaguered Ambassador swept a hand across his greying temple and eyed his former employee bitterly, scowling without exhibiting any indication that he accepted the defeat. Still, he knew he'd lost the battle, for the moment at least. "I saved your life once," the Ambassador asserted flatly, staring the alpha-male down with his strangely opaque blue eyes. "I will remember how you chose to repay me."

"Nevertheless." Unmoved, Thalus unclipped a set of binders from his belt and swiftly fastened the Ambassador's wrists at behind his back.

Leia was standing a few meters away with a faintly preoccupied, if not vaguely stunned expression.

"We've got no good reason to leave him alive," Han muttered.

The thinly veiled suggestion brought her back to life. "We can't. His actions will be of interest to the Hegemony at large. It's better that he lives and faces their own justice."

"I'll see that you'll both pay for this," Tion stated flatly. "_I'll_ see justice done."

Han, who had not been a mortal enemy of Tion's before his captivity, or even an hour ago, sensed his level of importance elevate almost through thin air. In the next breath, he felt momentarily glad that his home was for the most part, on the other side of the galaxy and far, far away from the Tion Hegemony. He covered his injured eye with his palm. "Thanks but no thanks."

Leia took a few unsteady steps forward.

"Sweetheart?"

"Know this Tion. Telling an insane person what they want to hear does not equal self-betrayal. It does not equal victory It means _nothing_. If you believed it ever did, than you are a fool. Now keep your mouth shut and don't say another word or I'll kill you myself." She backed away, keeping her gaze locked firmly on Tion's stoic face.

"Are we done?" Han asked.

Flushed and sweating, Leia nodded. "Yeah. We're done."

Han picked up the faded travel bag and lingered thoughtfully. He permitted her to exit first. "What did you do to piss her off?"

Tion leaned against the wall and arched an eyebrow, amused as though Han's query was a sign of weakness and Han wasn't sure that it wasn't. "Would you believe that she offered her confession in exchange for your life? She said she'd do anything-"

The Corellian curled his fist and swung hard.

Tion crumpled into the base of the turbolift, gasping for air, his nose broken.

"I warned you when we met that I don't usually offer amnesty after the fact," he said.

Without hurrying, Han pivoted casually and headed back to the main foyer. The two gravsleds were idling between a pair of globe-lights. City security forces hadn't arrived and Han had the feeling that they would never arrive. Whatever show Tion was running out of his embassy probably violated half a dozen CSA legal codes.

Thalus pointed to one of the vehicles. "The girl goes there. We'll take the second to the spaceport."

Leia regarded him quizzically. "_Han_?"

"Go with them." He passed her bag to another wolfman. "They'll take care of you."

"What about you?"

"I'll meet you at the rendezvous point." His right eye burned and her face was becoming a blur. Even the roots of his teeth ached down to the bone. "First I've got to go see about a ship."

"Han-"

"Go. I'll be back for you."

Several long hours passed before Leia began feeling concerned about _when_ that would be. Shaking her head in an effort to clear the haze from her mind, she gingerly climbed to her feet and began picking her way through the throng of limbs. They were at a subterranean miner's station in the desert. It was dark and faintly rank and moist with mildew, but not rank enough to have been abandoned forever. Emergency lights illuminated the surroundings well enough for her to see the dozen or so Shistavanen wolfmen reclining on their haunches. They wore crude mismatched bits of human clothing and chattered in their own language, which was from the sounds of it, far more nuanced than Chewbacca's native Shyriiwook. She couldn't have made out the difference between a word and a sigh if her life depended on it.

"Who's in charge here?" she asked.

They all stared at her.

"Who's in charge?"

Still, no answer.

Upon fleeing the embassy, they'd forced Leia to lay balled up in the storage compartment of the gravsled like a stowaway. At first she'd been afraid that they were taking her to a real den, but after an interminable ride, an ancient wolfman with one ear had released her amidst a great deal of threatening growling. She didn't see him now, although she'd assumed he held some position of authority within the group.

She tried again. "I asked you – _who_ -"

"I went to school," one of them said, languorously unwinding its long limbs until towered over her by nearly a metre. "I understand you."

"Oh." It hadn't occurred to her that they might not understand. They were all younger creatures, if she took stock of the lush shininess of their fur and slighter statures. A few were even wide-eyed with anxiousness. "I need – are there any medical supplies here?"

"I do not know. You may search for them."

From the looks of it, the one speaking with her was a female. "Where might I find my belongings?"

It pointed. "In the room at the end of the hall."

Accompanied by the she-wolf, Leia found her traveling bag. She also located an undated tube of salve in the fresher medical unit, although there was little else of use.

"Were you injured during the escape?"

Leia almost laughed. She might have, if it wasn't already taking every bit of energy she had to stand. All she said was, "No." With her elbow, she rubbed the greasy metallic walls and inspected her lower lip. She'd bitten it at some point during the gravsled ride and it tasted raw and sweet. The metal was too dingy for her to see much of anything, save hope that it felt worse to the touch than it was in actuality. She rinsed out her mouth with water that tasted of chemicals and leaned over the edge of the counter-top. Looking at the bloodied inside of her lower lip and strange puckered inner flesh was the easy part.

She tried to look inward past that and take in the most recent events.

Access denied.

Less than two days ago, she and Han had been cradled in each other's arms and coupling without a care in the universe. It _still _astounded her that another person was capable of loving her the way he did. It brought her to a point where she loved herself in an abstract way – saw that her entire life was a potent piece of the universe to just one person. It was entirely different than belonging to the Alliance or belonging to the loose affiliation of Alderaanian survivors. He completed her on another level, one so much more personal that she couldn't undo it. She loved and craved him with an eagerness that defied any other experience in her life so far.

Now, all she knew was that Han had abandoned her to the care of a group of Shistavanen wolfmen who were treating her like a captive _and _a guest – or something in between the two.

She shrugged off the borrowed coverall and applied the salve to a few recent abrasions, carefully avoiding the tender area where the bone-knitter had been injected. Save leaving several reddened patches, the neuronic whip had barely broken her skin. Still, her muscles had been clenching and uncontrollably for hours and her skin burned. Tion's methods of torture were almost Imperial, so scanty were they with their evidence.

The she-wolf was respectfully quiet until she finished.

"Do they hurt?"

"They?"

"The old scars?"

Leia blew out a long uncomfortable breath. The young Shistavanen was obviously curious, probably never having had a human in her home or practically undressed for that matter. "No, the old ones don't hurt. I guess our species just doesn't heal up as well as yours does." She thought it better to head off any more interest in her physical person, concerned she'd wind up with her ears tugged on or a finger up her nose, and dressed quickly in her own clothes. "How long do you estimate it will be until they return with the ship?"

She counted methodically on its fingers. "Four. Four days."

"Four? Hours," Leia corrected, quickly calculating travel time to and from all of the nearest spaceports in every direction. "You mean hours?"

"No. Days."

"That can't be right."

"It is. It is very far to his ship-"

"_His _ship? Han's ship?"

"_Haship_?" 

Leia struggled to process that. "_Han's ship_!"

"_Hanship_?"

"Oh, by the Force, I have to stop them." She charged determinedly toward the room's exit but the creature blocked her exit. "Get out of my way," she ordered.

"We are not to let you leave.

"I command you to let me pass."

"You have no right."

Leia wailed silently… _I can't believe this_… "You don't understand."

The she-wolf gestured to the hall. "They were wondering, why you are so angry at them after our den-mates went to rescue you. Now I am wondering too."

"I'm not angry. I'm…I'm…" Leia lowered her face into her hands. The blood surging through the veins behind her ears sounded as though it didn't fit. She hadn't felt so vulnerable since Bespin. She was stuck as some sort of hostage or prisoner while Han risked bringing his ship through CSA security.

And obviously, the young Shistavanen wasn't in charge.

Leia had no idea _who_ was in charge, but she wasn't going to be able to barge her way out of here. Furthermore, she was famished and wasn't sure if the way she was presently feeling was a result of Tion's mistreatment or having not eaten in almost two days. She certainly didn't expect to be baby-sat by a den of furry wolfmen but she apparently had little choice. For lack of a more conclusive reply, she said, "I'm hungry."

The she-wolf's tufted ears perked up. She barked commands to her den-mates, seemingly pleased that there was something she could do. Back in the main room, they served her a raw slice of purplish-coloured meat covered in tiny pock-mark indents. It smelled faintly spoiled and felt like velvet on her palm. She quickly identified it as the tongue of a large mammal, not nearly fresh enough to be safe for a human being.

The wolf-female sat with her while she attempted to eat it.

Leia pleaded her case anew and wiped the sticky blood from her fingers onto the knee of her trousers. "I don't know how to impress upon you the urgency of the situation. I _must_ get a message to Captain Solo." 

"There can be no messages."

"It may be a matter of life or death. There must be a way."

"There is no way. You're not to go outside. None of us can. Tion's men will be looking for us now. We wait here until the ship comes. No leaving."

The grim command triggered a sinking sensation in the pit of her belly. _Well, if you're a prisoner then it's time to start acting like one_. She forced herself to take a long drink of water. "When shall the others return?"

"Later tonight."

The she-wolf was eyeing the wedge of uneaten tongue hungrily.

"What do they call you?" Leia asked.

"Taroor."

"Taroor." Leia held out her hand. "Here."

The strange settling down that occurred some time later reminded her, oddly, of Jabba's palace on Tatooine. It was as though the species was attuned to a collective set of biorhythms, emitted sleepy pheromones or had been drugged en masse. Heavy-eyed herself, Leia waited until long after the group had fallen asleep before attempting to escape.

She climbed over Taroor's slumbering form and ascended the forward passage, stepping out the main entrance where the night sky guarded the ravaged desert like a watchful father. Luminescent moths and clicking luma-beetles flitted like eyes against the starry backdrop. _If_ she made it back to Trade City by the next night, or even the night after that, she would have enough time to reach Han, provided he checked his subspace transceiver before he approached Bonadan. It was a big _if_. She had only one bottle of water, innocently donated to her by Taroor and no food; she would have to rely on what she could scrounge up. She would also have to find a place to take shelter during the mid-day or face certain death under the scalding sun.

It seemed that in recent months, Leia had become increasingly susceptible to attempting the impossible, to undertaking foolish feats. Again, she had to try. If she didn't, the _Falcon's_ fate would be as she'd seen it in her vision.

Unfortunately, there were no gravsleds in sight and the desert stretched like an untouched canvas in every direction without a solitary landmark to guide her. Pausing for a long deep breath, an instinct, almost like a gentle push from the wind, turned her to the left where a beacon of eerie moonlight beckoned to her.

With no other option, she plunged toward it.

The night attacked her before she'd made it ten steps. A set of gnashing teeth and gripping limbs crushed her to the ground. Taroor's distinctive accent hissed in her ear. "You are very determined little one. Did you not think I knew you would try to leave? Do you mock us for attempting to save you?"

The canine outweighed her by at least one hundred pounds and Leia struggled for breath. "_No_."

"If you escape, they will find us. We will be slaughtered."

"I had no choice."

"No choice?" Taroor released her enough to stand and brusquely seize her by the arms. Another den-mate came forward to help her. Together, they dragged Leia back inside the miner's compound and through the main room. This time, they shoved her inside a small dark room that lacked windows and had only the one entrance.

"We're going to die anyway if I don't reach him," she said bitterly. "He'll never make it back here."

"You can't know that."

"I do. I would never put your family in jeopardy if I had a choice."

"You would not have made it."

Leia closed her mouth. It was altogether possible and a reality she'd avoided facing.

Some of Taroor's anger seemed to dissipate. She crouched just inside the doorway and rubbed at her forearms. "It's not up to me. You will have to explain yourself to my grandfather when he returns. He is the only one who can help you."

"When will that be?"

"Soon."

Anguished, Leia sat in the corner and leaned against the wall. Then she remembered that it would take two days for Han to reach Reltooine and two days for him to return to Bonadan. There was time. She must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing she was aware of was harsh growling. She craned her neck and felt her insides dissolve slightly. Above her stood the battle-scarred warrior who'd frightened her earlier, his hackles raised like spikes in a manner that kept her from daring to breathe.

"Speak," Taroor commanded. "Convince him not to kill you."

She and reached for a blaster that wasn't there and swallowed. If they were a species that didn't believe in the Force and spurned the supernatural, all hope would be lost. "Ask him if he knows of the Jedi."

Taroor didn't bother translating. "Yes he has. Everyone knows of the Jedi."

"Then tell him I have the same natural talent."

"As the Jedi?"

"Yes."

"You lie. They're all dead."

"No." Leia shook her head and drew herself onto her knees. "That's where you're wrong – where the Emperor was wrong. They're not extinct. There's one with the Alliance now. Surely you've heard of him. I haven't trained yet but I see things and feel things I don't understand."

The warrior grunted inconclusively.

She persisted. "Based on a Force-vision, I have a warning for Captain Solo."

"Explain more," Taroor ordered. "Explain the vision."

Leia recounted her vision outside the Alderaanian Embassy as clearly as she could, describing the vivid image of the _Falcon_ traveling over the desert, of the sweeper storm and the headhunters, and finally, the _Falcon's_ ghastly fate. "If you fire at them you will only make them stronger," she finished. "I know that. I don't know what it means but I must tell him."

The silver-backed warrior spoke again with Taroor. Then he said, "We brushed the tracks and sent a vehicle ahead to Elraden some kilometres back to distract any searchers. How did you know the direction?"

"I just… _did_. I could feel it." She settled back onto her calves, feeling that her life was safe for the time being. At least, he seemed to be listening and hadn't moved to kill her yet. "You know I speak the truth."

"Whether you speak the truth or not, only humans have access to the hyperspace message services. Only the Espo security forces."

"What about a diplomatic agency? An embassy?"

"If we had a contact inside an embassy." He gestured absently with his razor-sharp claws. "We made a… what is you call it - a _mortal_ enemy - of our only contact today."

"I know of another contact." Leia pitched herself facedown at the feet of the Shistavanen warrior. "I'm asking you as the only living descendant of the Royal Family of Alderaan. I'm begging you. For the sake of your families and Han Solo, please permit me to contact them."

She lay there for eons, praying and hoping, until finally, he said, "Get up she-human. We will try."


	9. Chapter 9

When the _Falcon_ made the jump to lightspeed, Mooz howled as though he was being catapulted to his death amidst the stars.

"Never traveled at lightspeed?" Han asked, less than innocently, but not mockingly.

"No," Thalus replied from a passenger chair behind him. Beside him, in the co-pilot's seat, Mooz shuffled beneath his safety straps and tugged at the fur around his wrist. It came loose in small clumps and littered the _Falcon's_ deck like miniature mammals.

"Don't worry," Han assured him, giving the navicomputer a firm pat. "Flying is safer than skyhopping. You can check the statistics. And this ship has made thousands of jumps in the past few years. We've seen a lot together."

Mooz didn't look convinced, and Han consciously decided to forgo his usual stories about the _Falcon's_ three droid brain controllers and their constant bickering. Their slow, two-day journey crammed in the third-class cabin of a decrepit passenger liner had been made almost amusing by Mooz's phobia of deep space. Nothing Thalus said or did reassured the hirsute giant; everything Han said or did seemed to make things worse. When he eventually abandoned the cockpit, the pair shadowed him through the narrow corridors like lost Ewoks. Recalling that they'd eaten the equivalent of a small bantha over the past two days, Han dug around in the galley for Chewie's stash of dried meat and fetched himself a drink.

"This is the galley and common area," he explained. "This passage way leads to my cabin. The other leads to the crew quarters and med-bay."

"What's that?" Thalus asked.

"The tech board console."

"And that?"

"The supply closet." The duo had also left certain areas of their third-class cabin on the way to Reltooine smelling like a nerf carcass. "Beside it is the head."

"Where does that door go?"

"Nowhere. It's the starboard airlock."

Mooz growled and barked to Thalus, backing away with his fur bristling, all the while watching his toes as if to make sure he didn't step on a booby-trap.

Han set his drink down on the holo-table with a slap. "What wrong with him?"

"He is concerned about your threat to kill him."

"I never said I was going to kill him."

"You threatened to throw him out an airlock."

"When the hell did I… oh." Well, of course, he'd been exaggerating; he'd needed their help. "Listen, I promise that when I dump you out we'll be on land somewhere you'd rather be than here." The satchel Han had retrieved from Tion's embassy was on the floor. He carefully withdrew the computer interface component and data crystals, thinking about Leia and the way she'd looked when he rescued her. He could have planted a kiss on Thalus' muzzle for that, for rescuing him from the Yaka within the compound. The Shistavanen warriors had saved his life not once, but twice. "Listen. I owe you two. I won't forget it."

"What did you take from Tion?"

"Um well…" The data crystals were all marked in a foreign alphabet. "You wouldn't happen to read and write Tionese?"

"No."

"Figures." Han carried the loot over to the _Falcon's_ com-scan system, grabbed a spare cable and plugged it into the interface component's input slot. Then he began running the data crystals one by one beneath the scanner. The com-scan system had an automated translator that covered all major trade languages. Han was pretty sure Tionese was one of them. While it began scanning, he strapped on his tie-down holster and unclipped his blaster from the wall rack.

From across the room, Mooz made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a hiss.

"Your people have Leia," Han said dryly. "Maybe we could all work on our paranoia."

Unperturbed, Thalus stroked the pointed tufts hanging from his chin. "It was, shall we say, of enormous convenience that you were taken prisoner."

Han grunted and thought about the Shistavanen warriors that had escaped from the _Star's End_ facility at Mytus VII. He hadn't felt much like a hero that day and time hadn't changed that. "I thought it was all about honour."

"Yes. That too." Thalus crossed his massive arms. "Had I _no_ honour, my family would have been home before the start of the war many times over. Had I more, I would have killed Tion several years ago."

"Fair enough."

Thalus stirred to the left. Mooz had activated the holo-chess boards and was staring with rapt fascination at a flickering molotar. Chewing a strip of meat absentmindedly, he didn't seem to realize that the hologram was part of the game and was swatting it with his fingertips. The molotar, true to programming, was swatting back, albeit ineffectively.

"What will you do when you finally get home?"

"I will find a wife," he stated flatly. "I will marry."

Han gave up on the data crystals and ordered the system to scan the interface component for anything resembling _Arkana_. "You're a romantic at heart?" he replied sardonically. "Believe me, I never would have guessed."

Very subtly, the massive warrior edged his chin in Mooz's direction. "There are very few of us left on Bonadan who can marry."

"_Oh_." Han nodded, biting his lip, unable to think of a solitary suitable response. Without his realizing it, Mooz had ceased to be imposing or scary some time ago. Thalus, on the other hand, could still spook the hair on his arms into standing up with the barest growl. "In that case, I can see why Uvena Prime might sound like a paradise." Han set an elbow on the edge of the counter. There were no Shistavanen warriors embedded with the Alliance, not with any of the cells he'd worked with, not with the fleet. And Uvena Prime was smack in the middle of the Sesswenna Sector, close to Coruscant and Kuat. They would make a valuable ally. "You know, the Alliance can always use good fighters."

Thalus snapped his muzzle shut and snorted.

"Well, when we see Leia at least mention that I tried." The com-scan system's display screen beeped and Han began paying serious attention to the files names. There were hundreds of them, dated and marked in code. Tion enjoyed keeping his records, in much the same way that Palpatine had been famous for it, and it seemed he wasn't all that scrupulous about what he recorded. Not knowing what to expect, Han commanded a file marked 'Guard Arkana' (that _had_ to be it) to play.

A woman recoiled behind a dingy metal table, perched on the edge of her chair.

"Look straight at the recorder," an unseen voice was demanding. "Straight ahead of you."

The sickness nesting in the pit of his stomach rolled over. They'd softened her up already. Han could tell by the way she slouched in her chair, see it in her eyes. At quick count, four hulking Yaka surround her, two on either side. Tion stood regally in front and his medallions shimmered beneath the harsh cell lighting, like raw glitterstim in the mines of Kessel.

"Now state your name and title."

"Senior Guardswoman Tyyla Arkana."

"What do you do?"

"I'm head of security…"

"For whom?"

"Head of security to Bail Organa and the World Family of Alderaan."

"Let's discuss your message to your husband."

The Yaka held out a portable vid-cam and the woman's face contorted into an expression that could only belong to a mother protecting its young.

"We'll kill him within the hour." Tion handed her a piece of flimsiplast and a stylus. "Let's begin anew. To my dearest…"

"They'll know something has happened to me," she whimpered, defeated. "I would never write this."

"Those are overused and worthless words. Of course you wouldn't. It's of no consequence. Now, to my dearest husband…"

When all was said and done, a human attendant removed the flimsiplast. Tion motioned to the Yaka, and a pair fixed her in place, arm flat on the table, palm down.

"Whether or not you die slowly is up to you."

"Let's not play games," the woman spat back acidly. "That's up to you."

Smiling incongruously, Tion brought a vibroblade down on the table. Tyyla's scream filled the _Falcon's_ hold like a tidal wave, washing over the muted sheen of unpolished metals and filling every centimetre of empty space. Thalus's heavy shadow fell across the screen. Han turned off the sound. "I should have killed him when we had the chance."

The wolfman didn't mince words. "Perhaps."

"He saved your life once," Han said, recalling the Ambassador's words back in the Embassy. He'd said Thalus owed him his life and that he would not forget how he chose to repay him.

"Yes."

A clack and a beep came from the holo-table. Out of the corner of his eye, Han saw that Mooz had figured out to make a move, or done so accidentally. Han waited for Thalus to say more - after all, he had been in Tion's employment for years - but the wolfman didn't. So he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at the side of his face. Three days later, the razor thin scars from the neuronic whip still burned.

"Ambassador Tion was a very resourceful human," was all Thalus said.

Han nodded, his attention snagged by the display screen again. It was impossible not to watch it and yet he longed to turn it off. There were words for people like Tion and then there were activities for which there were no words. Had Tion failed as an Ambassador on Bonadan, he might have had a lucrative career in interrogation with the Empire. He didn't play with his victims; he was decisive and the repercussions were immediate. After another minute, Han decided he couldn't watch it, even with the sound muted.

"Did you know her?"

Han hesitated before answering. "She worked for Leia's family a long time ago."

"Why did you come to Bonadan?"

Something terrible occurred to him, something so brutally stupefying that his heart hitched and adrenaline forced his lungs to breathe as though he'd come up from underwater. "You were right," he managed. "Tion is very resourceful for a human."

A heavy talon closed around his right shoulder. "You should not be watching this Solo."

Sweat trickled beneath the collar of his shirt. Han jerked his shoulder possessively. "I don't know what happened to her back there."

Thalus stepped away from the Corellian as though he'd threatened him with bodily harm. "What purpose would it serve to watch it?" he asked. "She will tell you. Does she not have that right?" Without waiting for a reply, the creature turned on his thickly padded heel and joined Mooz at the holo-table.

_How should I know_? Han thought. _How should I know_?

Some time later, the _Falcon _alerted him that they were nearing the end of their flight. Letting out a long, hard breath, Han eased himself from the stationary chair and saw that the subspace transceiver was flashing.

"Your Highness, we have a connection."

Leia Organa posed herself carefully before the holocomm unit. "Turn it on."

"This had better be important," Han was saying to no one in particular.

A face she knew and loved dearly materialized above the central pad. With an eyepatch.

"It is."

"_Leia_?"

"It's me." She checked her chrono and her smile, wondering who he thought _would _be contacting him. "We don't have much time and I need you to listen to me very carefully."

"Did something happen?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "No, not yet."

"Tell me what-"

"The afternoon I visited the Alderaanian Embassy. Do you remember that?"

"Yes."

"I was upset. I told you I'd felt something. Only it wasn't a feeling." Leia hunched her shoulders inward and lowered her voice so that the other occupants of the room couldn't quite hear her. "I _saw_ your ship, the _Millennium_ _Falcon_, in the deserts outside Trade City being chased toward a sweeper storm by a pair of headhunters. You meant to swerve around it but they surprised you from the other side. Your ship flew directly into the storm and was destroyed by the energy field." She swallowed thickly. Each hand shrivelled into a fist. "I don't know how it happened; only that it did. It still might happen."

Han's tone was grim. "You had this vision and you didn't-"

She cut him off. "It's not a good time."

"I understand," he grunted, although his face plainly showed that they would be talking about this at length come time later.

"They say the sweeper storms have destroyed suspicious crafts before," she explained. Fifty-seven in the last five years, to be precise, give or take three that may have been the result of pilot error. "The local government typically rules such incidents as accidental, but there are rumours that the advanced artificial weather system on Bonadan is tied to its security system."

"That's impossible."

"Is it?"

"I don't know. _Ah_." He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "If they can and it is I'll be flying into some type of ambush."

"As near as we can surmise."

"We?" Han's face evinced surprise.

"I'm in contact with the Alderaanian Embassy. The den leader – _Karauu-_"

"Yeah, yeah. Thalus mentioned him. I can't pronounce his name either."

"One of his grandsons delivered a message from me to Houk Awouk, who in turn delivered it to the embassy." She stepped to the side and gestured to the bearded man on her left. "Minister Jarratt insisted on coming to see me personally on behalf of the embassy. As soon as I informed him what Ambassador Tion had attempted to do and what happened to Tyyla Arkana, he offered his assistance."

At the mention of Tyyla's name, the muscles in Han's right cheek ticked. "You're still in the desert at the rendezvous point, aren't you?"

"We haven't been able to plan any type of evacuation. Tion and five battalions of Espo have been searching for you, Mooz and Thalus for days. The den can't risk returning to the city – there are checkpoints coming out and in." Leia checked her chrono again despite the fact that the Minister's guardsman, standing only a few metres away, was also keeping track and would alert her when their time was up. They had one minute and forty seconds left before the channel's security could not be guaranteed. "We've been working on a backup plan."

Han's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Or thiscould be some kind of trap."

In his imagination, Leia understood that she might be standing a metre from the bare end of a blaster carbine and the man standing behind her might be one of Tion's men. As planned, she motioned for Taroor, who'd been lingering in the doorway, to come forward and show herself. "This is Thalus's sister. She'll speak with him if necessary. The others are only a room away." Leia licked her lips. "I can summon them but understand that our time is limited."

"No, that won't be necessary."

"I need to ask you a question then; why is the Corporate Sector Authority so interested in you?"

Han sighed through the transceiver. "Have you ever heard of the Star's End facility on Mytus VII?"

"Yes," the Minister piped up. "The 'Prison of the Future,' they were working on. It was destroyed in a freak accident some five or six years ago, wasn't it?"

"Well I was there when it went. For the record, technically, I didn't _do_ anything. Viceprex Hirken –he was the prison administrator and warden – _he's_ the one who tripped off the overload spiral that destroyed the tower and sent it crashing down to the planet." Han waved his hand through the air. "I was working with a pair of Trianni. We posed as the Imperial Entertainer's Guild. Our plan was to rescue a few illegally sentenced political prisoners, get in and out fast. It so happened that a friend of mine was there too. Things got a little crazy after that. That's all I can tell you."

"Who did you rescue?" she asked.

"Doc," he said quietly.

Leia digested that quietly while precious seconds were lost, studying the laugh lines at the corner of his mouth.

Minister Jarratt cleared his throat noisily.

Leia checked her chrono yet again. Thirty-eight seconds remained. "Are you able to work with that?"

The Minister clasped his hands together. "I'll manage."

"Where are you now?" she asked Han.

"We just dropped out of hyper – we're about seven light years from Bonadan."

"You're a few hours off then. Good. When you reach the atmosphere, I want you to drop into orbit with the local freighter traffic and wait for my hail."

"_Your_ hail?"

"You'll hear from me within a standard day. Wait until then."

"Twelve seconds," called the guardsman.

Reluctantly, Leia ended the transmission and let out her breath, stretching just enough from side to side to ease the stiffness from her back. Four days camped out on the floors of the abandoned mining station had not been particularly comfortable for any of them. Even Minister Jarrat's disguise, shabby miner's coveralls, were stained with dust and grime. The middle-aged man had had offered her sanctuary at the Embassy residences, but admittedly, they did not have enough room for the entire den of Shistavanen, or a means to smuggle the entire family there safely thought the checkpoints.

Feeling guilty that perhaps she was taking advantage of the embassy, she asked, "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"I've heard of the Star's End prison facility," Jarratt replied stoically. "Morally, it went against everything we stood for on Alderaan. I can only surmise that Captain Solo thought he was doing the right thing and wonder that in his place I wouldn't have done the same." The man looked out into the hall where several of the young cubs were peering in. "Our consular ship, the _Lir Spirit,_ hasn't had a maintenance run in over two years if memory serves me correctly. It's about time we took her up into the atmosphere. All I have to do is figure out how we're going to get this group on board first."

Leia pursed her lips. "Ships that large need to test their planet-side sensors and repulsors don't they?"

The Minister rubbed at his chin, regarding the now dead transceiver with an almost bemused expression. To the casual observer, it appeared he was enjoying this small adventure very much. "I suppose we might want to test those some distance away from the city, in case anything is leaking. Yes, indeed. Why, I should see about getting the requisite permits right away."

After he departed for the main room, Leia stood and stared at the dead transceiver for a good five minutes, lost in thought.

Taroor strolled over, fluffing her sleek fur restlessly. The she-wolf dug her nails into the dirt on the floors and paused to pat Leia on the head. "All will be well."

"I don't know that."

"Can you not see?"

"No." The qualmish feeling in her stomach returned ten-fold. "Not when I want to."

Thalus slipped into Chewbacca's oversized chair quite comfortably. The luminous glow of Bonadan's atmosphere filled the dim cockpit and the fine outer hairs of Thalus's pelt shone as though they were metallic.

"A problem?" the creature asked.

The _Millennium Falcon_ had been in orbit with the local freighter traffic for exactly four and one half hours. Han hadn't intended to be evasive about the change in plans; it was just that every time he thought about venturing toward the main hold and explaining their current situation, it ended with fluffed tails, bared fangs and the ragged feel of his jugular being ripped open. He sucked in his breath and rested an elbow on the forward console, then exhaled deeply. "Thalus, we can't land."

To his relief, the Shistavanen's fur didn't bristle. "Why?"

Han explained that Leia believed they would be destroyed before reaching the den. And why. And then, when Thalus didn't say anything, he explained how she knew.

"Last month there was an 'unfortunate' accident," the wolfman hissed when he finished. "And the month before that, there were two. She is right. We dare not risk it."

"Leia is very resourceful," Han reassured him. "She's already assembled some kind of back-up plan."

"What is it?"

"I'm not really sure _what _it is yet. We're supposed to remain in orbit with the local traffic until we hear from her."

The Shistavanen's grim gaze wandered past the transparisteel viewport. "Well, if you were seeking to remain with the local traffic indefinitely, I should mention that there is a pair of Picket Fleet ships weaving their way toward us."

"Damn it." Han checked the tactical display screen and saw that Thalus was right. He banked the _Falcon _hard to port and yanked on the throttle, directing the _Falcon _beneath the belly of a very large bulk hauler and into her shadows. "Let's see if they follow."

The two Marauder Corvettes sailed by on either side of the hauler, but both ships flew as though they hadn't noticed him.

Han held his breath. If they were part of a local patrol unit and scanning for unregistered ships or wanted ships, they may have already identified the _Falcon_. The good news was that while the corvettes could hold their own against minor smuggling ships and pirates, they wouldn't stand a chance against the _Falcon's_ specially modified weapons system. The bad news was there were usually bigger and scarier reinforcements nearby. Han double-checked the navicomputer. Earlier he had plotted several short hyperspace jumps that take them safely to the other side of the system in nanoseconds. The problem was, once in hyperspace, Leia wouldn't be able to contact him. Ultimately he would have to return to Bonadan and begin circling all over again; only then any patrol units would be on full alert. Life would simply be that much easier if no one noticed them.

Just behind them lay one of Bonadan's ubiquitous space stations. A dozen massive container ships were stationed outside it, in the process of loading up with goods and materials. Small silvery light freighters that traditionally made runs between the planet to her space stations darted in and out of the greater ship's docking bays. To his relief, the pair of Marauders wove headfirst through the stretch of traffic behind the hauler and bee-lined it for the sheltered section of the station.

"See," Han proclaimed. "They're probably just scoping for smugglers."

"Or they might be turning around," Thalus replied.

Han swore. "No. They're not turning around. And for Corell's sake, don't _say_ things like that. It's bad luck."

Thalus checked the tactical display scene. "_Ooooooh_."

"What?"

Thalus clacked his teeth together noisily.

"Are they turning around?"

"I didn't say it."

Before Han could process that, the transceiver flashed to alert him that a message was incoming. "And that's Leia. I told you everything would work out." Han switched the receiver on. "Sweetheart, it's about-"

"_Millennium Falcon_, this is Bonadan Upper Level Security. Please keep to your current course and-"

Brusquely, Han switched the receiver off.

"There's a foreign ship incoming," Thalus interrupted. "A very big ship."

"Mother of all Rodians…" In a split second, things had seemingly gone from bad to worse, but Han experienced a sudden burst of unexpected confidence. "Hang on. That's an Alderaanian ship." The receiver was still flashing. He gave it another punch.

Static crackled and then came Leia's voice, brimming with barely contained eagerness. "_Millennium Falcon_; please stand by and prepare for our tractor beam to pull you into our landing bay."

"You have the most wonderful sense of timing," he said, releasing the throttle.

"It's good to hear your voice too," she returned.

"Are you all there?"

"We're all here. Hang on. You appear to be popular." Leia left the channel open. "_Upper Red Seven_, this is the _Lir Spirit_."

"_Lir Spirit, _this is Upper Level Security informing you that you're interfering with an investigation."

"An investigation? This ship is being taken into Alderaanian custody."

"What for?"

"Not that it's a matter for you but the captain is wanted for kidnapping a member of the World Family."

"Wha-? We have a Sector Authority warrant-"

Leia's voice was edgy enough to make a grown man wince in his boots. "You're welcome to rendezvous with us back at the _Lir Spirit's_ docking bay in Market City. Unless you'd like to pull into our docking bay now and discuss the matter, but I should warn you we've had an outbreak of _tsousi_ lice and everyone who comes onboard will have to be decontaminated before-"

"No Sir. We're just following orders. We'll notify planetside authority that you took him into custody. They'll meet you."

"Very well."

"See," Han declared gleefully to both Thalus and Mooz. The patchy-coated wolfman had quietly joined them in the last few minutes and was standing with his claws wrapped around the backrest of the navigator's chair. Han held his breath until he felt the shudder of the tractor beam locking onto the _Falcon_, and then he gave the pair of Marauders a triumphant wave as the _Falcon_ was swallowed by the _Lir Spirit's_ enormous gap-jawed landing bay.

Mooz growled something in Shistavanen that sounded decidedly ominous.

"I didn't kidnap anyone," Han insisted. "And cheer up. You're about to be reunited with your entire den."

Promptly, Mooz leapt into the air with a sudden whoop of joy and nearly smacked his furry head on the cockpit bulkhead.

The _Lir Spirit's_ docking bay was swarming with triangular ears and pointed tails. Han fought his way down the ramp, dodged a series of wet noses anxious to smell him, and located Leia squeezed in between two Shistavanen who each towered over her by half. He scooped her into his arms and lost himself in the warm curve of her neck. "I don't know how you pulled this off or put it together but I think love you."

"You think?" Leia slipped partway free from his arms and grasped his hand. "What about when we hand you over to the security detail back on Bonadan? Will you still love me then?"

"Back on Bonadan." Han rubbed at his collar. That _couldn't_ be part of her plan. "But you…"

Leia grinned. "Gotcha."

Han flashed a lop-sided smile. The Alliance had several Alderaanian ships in her fleet but he had never stepped foot on one of their diplomatic vessels. The interior of the landing bay was so blindingly white and pristine that his eyes, still mildly sensitive to light after the long months of carbonization, ached and blurred over. Lined up against the hanger walls were a number of crew and servicemen, watching the reunion unfold. Before he knew it, Leia was guiding him toward an aging man wearing miner's coveralls.

"General Solo, General Solo. It's a pleasure."

"Thank you Minister." Han gestured to his ship. "I can't thank you enough for your assistance."

"We were happy to help. We're aware that this is a most delicate situation.

Delicate? That was an interesting way of putting it. Han wondered what Leia had told them and asked, "I don't suppose there's any way you can keep this quiet?"

"Not very likely."

Leia looked at Han. "This will be difficult to explain to the Alliance. I suppose… obviously, they'll want to know why the Espo want you so badly."

"Dodonna will have a stroke and I'll never hear the end of it from Madine."

"They know how valuable you are to us."

"Speak for yourself."

"I am."

"What about the Espo?" Han turned back to the Alderaanian Minster. "This could be problematic for your Embassy."

Jarratt shrugged. "They never said we _weren't_ torelease you, did they? It's shall merely be one large misunderstanding which they'll forget about as soon as we inquire as to why a member of our Royal Family was being held without counsel at the Tionese Embassy. In fact, they'll be downright apologetic when we make our displeasure with Ambassador Tion public and suggest that they were guilty of collaborating with him." Reminiscently, the Minister patted Han's shoulder as though he were his long lost nephew. "We owe you, my son. We're even willing to fly you to the edge of the system."

Han shook his head. "I appreciate the offer but I can't accept it. We're prepared to jump. If everyone boards immediately we'll be gone before they alert the Authority down below." He cleared his throat. "Not to cut this thank you short but the less I have weighing on my shoulders…."

"No need to explain. I understand, General."

Leia gave Minister Jarratt a heartfelt hug, and then they exchanged a few words in Alderaanian.

"Uh… All right," Han began, pausing clumsily. Over twenty bright-eyed, furry and anxious-looking creatures were staring at him expectantly. "Everyone on board. Go park it and hold on tight to whatever you can find."

Two minutes later, Leia was slipping into the co-pilot's seat and struggling to readjust the crash webbing.

Han smiled so hard his cheeks ached. "It's good to have you back."


	10. Chapter 10

Leia watched as the youngest cub marched to the dais where the Matriarch of the Fifteen Dens embraced and welcomed her home in the name of her ancient ancestors. Hundreds of Shistavanen filled the great pavilion, the ceiling of which was framed with bloodwood that had been soaked and twined into pointed twisting skeletal sculptures and jagged spikes. Sections of bloodwood had been wrapped in a very thin material that had subsequently been treated so that it clung tightly to the wood and gave the appearance of skin. It was translucent enough that natural sunlight poured down from overhead although the material gave the airy quarters a rosy tint. Leia felt as though she was standing in the bowels of something alive – or something that had once been alive.

Off in the distance, the city of Topwaau was visible, built in the hills of the same dark bloodwood that was tougher than titanium. Since the ceremony had begun, the sun had rapidly burned away the thin web of morning fog, revealing the strategically desirable view of the deciduous forests and wind-ravaged lowlands. They stretched as far as she could see in any one direction and reminded her of Alderaan's southernmost continent. Leia would have said so to Han, except that the ritual embraces (which also involved a great deal of sniffing) were completed and the Matriarch of Fifteen Dens gestured for him to step forward.

It was quiet enough to hear the whuffling breathing of the wolfmen nearest her. Looking mildly embarrassed, the tall Corellian complied. The Matriarch sniffed him soundly and growled at length.

"Han Solo," translated Thalus, who was standing to her right. "If ever you are in need of a friend, of aid, of a safe haven, you are always welcome here. If the Alliance is ever in need of aid, we are here."

Normally, Leia knew Han would have broken the seriousness by cracking a joke, but he only said, "Good luck to you, and Mooz."

"Thank you my friend. We will remember you."

"You're turning out to be quite the diplomat," Leia whispered under her breath when he returned to her side.

"Don't get too excited. I'm not making any career changes."

Silently, all of the wolfmen began filing out of the pavilion, heading quickly for the city. Taroor was the only one to turn around and offer a very human-style wave with her massive paws.

As goodbyes went, the exchange was less than satisfying, but the _Millennium Falcon_ had arrived at an inauspicious moment in Shistavanen history. Over the last two weeks there had been several skirmishes with the _Hriiki_, an avian species that dwelled in the thickest part of the woods. Recently, the ferocious flyers had attacked two cubs, both of whom had escaped with serious injuries. (Leia wondered if the jagged spikes of the great hall were a form of protection should the Hriiki fly inside the pavilion, but there was no one around to ask, except for the fierce-looking she-wolfs waiting to escort them to the _Falcon_ escorts who were both wearing silvery feathers in their wide belts.) In retaliation for the recent attacks, a hunting party was being sent out tomorrow and as a matter of cultural tradition, the Shistavanen believed goodbyes before a battle courted back luck. Naturally, Thalus and Mooz had already signed on.

Twenty minutes later, Uvena Prime was a dream in hyperspace.

None of the wolfmen had been permitted to cross the threshold to the captain's quarters. It was a firm rule of Han's and one Leia had agreed with at the start of the flight, despite worrying that it was somewhat selfish when there was so little space to be had. Now, too exhausted to contemplate sani-cleaning the ship from bow to stern, she was relieved to have a haven onboard unpolluted by canine odours and musky fur. Soon, she was cleaner than she'd been in over a week, muscles soft and relaxed, wrapped securely in an ancient oversized red towel.

Han caught up with her just as she finished. He climbed out of his rumpled clothing and ducked beneath the spray.

Leia sat on the tiny counter-space and worked at towel drying her hair. Han hadn't been wearing his safety straps during the air taxi crash on Bonadan and there were several splotchy bruises sprawled idly across his left side. Other, nasty looking marks decorated his throat. They had to be from the Yaka within Tion's Embassy, not the Shistavanen who had helped him. For a minute, he stood with his head bowed so that the water ran a river down the center of his back, rolling his neck from left to right.

"Why didn't you tell me about what happened at _Star's End _with Doc?" she asked. Only en route to Uvena Prime had she learned the story behind that.

"It wasn't worth mentioning until a few days ago," Han answered. "Believe it or not, there are a few planets in the Corporate Sector where the welcome mat would fly out."

"Just not the ones that happen to have CSA headquarters on them," Leia added under her breath. "You're quite the hero then."

"Who? Me? Nah. I'm just always in the wrong place at the wrong time." He reached for the soap. "But I have this funny habit of staying alive no matter what the odds."

"You're going to give Threepio a circuit meltdown one of these days." Leia nudged her toes against the containment field that kept the water from spraying outside the cubicle. "Personally, I like that about you."

"Good." Han winked at her. "So was it just my imagination or was Jarratt treating me like a long-lost Alderaanian war veteran or something?"

"It wasn't your imagination."

He held a hand up in mock-surrender against the spray. "I give up. What'd I do?"

"For starters, you rescued me from the _Death Star_."

"Ah. So because of that…"

Leia cleared her throat. "Rescuing a member of the World Family ensures that you'll always have the welcome mat put out for you wherever an enclave of survivors exists."

"Huh." Han rinsed pale green lather from his hair. "Well, one thing's for certain."

"What's that?"

"The Force sure seems to have a vested interest in keeping you alive."

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Han wiped soap from his eyes. "You may not know how to use it or control it, but whenever you need it, it shows up."

_From a certain point of view_, Leia amended silently. It hadn't exactly helped her to avoid Tion's trap on Bonadan in the first place, had it? She waited for him to finish, then kissed the yellowed bruises at the base of his throat until she was newly damp. Since the ordeal had ended, they'd embraced and touched each other many times, but not in private, not with that feeling of almost-loss present so that she could banish it.

"I would have told you about the vision if I'd understood it at the time," she explained, eagerly running her palms over his chest. She was planning to talk to Luke about it as soon as she got back.

Han discarded any pretence of an interest in talking. He muttered one unintelligible word, leaned down and kissed her bottom lip. The kiss started out small, and then his tongue moved its way into her mouth.

When they came up for air, Leia shifted her hand between Han's legs, examining the organ that had an almost velvety soft quality about it, softer than the skin of a newborn. As it hardened in her palm, she slid two fingers in tandem over the underside of the tip where he was most sensitive and listened to his breathing quicken. "I missed you," she said.

One hand slid beneath the towel and cupped her breast. "I know."

Suddenly she had a desperate need to touch all of him, to feel all of him. She sucked at his throat, her body rising and tightening increments. His caresses slipped to her stomach, and then to the inside of her leg, almost carelessly. She said, "I need to come," not knowing she'd been about to say anything at all, and then felt almost taken aback.

To her surprise, Han broke the kiss and scooted down so that he was on his knees.

"I meant," she managed, gasping, "We should go to the bed."

"But that's not what you said." He unwrapped her towel and then his hands were hot against the inside of her thighs and his mouth was even hotter.

Flushed and startled, she attempted to recall if they'd fallen to their passions over the past few weeks ever in such a fashion but she couldn't think beyond the present. It was only six steps or so to the bunk from the fresher, but she liked precisely what his tongue was doing too much to stop it. It took all of her concentration to lock her elbows and brace her hands on his shoulders.

Soon, her legs were trembling and she teetered on the cusp of succumbing to a particularly exquisite pleasure at the hands of the dark-haired Corellian. Moaning, she arched her feet and buckled at the waist over his shoulder. It would have been an awkward fall, broken by the edge of the shower cubicle, but Han caught her easily and spread the discarded towel across the fresher floor before tumbling her back.

She covered herself with her hands, wanting a minute to recover while shivers of an unfinished orgasm continued rippling between her legs, but Han had none of it, prying her legs apart and covering her with his body. The slick sensation of penetration was intense, as though a thousand nerves endings were raw and over-stimulated.

"Wait, wait, wait…" she begged.

Buried deep inside her, Han propped himself up on his elbows and kissed her squarely on the tip of her nose. Half-heartedly, he said, "All right."

Leia caught her breath and smiled demurely at him. Water dripped onto her cheek and forehead, trickling into her hair. She ran her nails lightly over his hips and felt his stomach muscles bunch up against her ribcage. He was aching for this as much as she was. "Just go slow to start," she said. "I want you."

"Like this," he said, sliding in and out.

"Yes."

After a few moments of gentle rocking, Han clamped his forcefully mouth over hers and pretended to forget the request.

The rising tension between her legs soon had her entire body screaming for a new release. Leia felt drawn out to the point of breaking like a feral creature, squealing and twisting beneath him. She grasped his upper arms and ran the pads of her feet over his calves, murmuring Alderaanian words that were never uttered in polite company, words that a daughter of the World Family would never use, should never have known.

Han responded by driving into her in a circular motion, sliding a hand under her bottom and breathing ardently into her ear and against the nape of her neck. He said, "Tell me when."

It wasn't long before she exhaled, "_Now_."

Han thrust himself into her over and over, grunting and shuddering from head to toe. She moaned at length, pleasure drifting outward in concentric circles almost in time with the throbs against her womb.

They lay together panting quietly.

"Maybe from now on we should avoid stepping off my ship altogether," Han suggested wryly.

Leia considered that for a moment. "It might not be such a bad idea. Those events are usually over-rated anyway." She pressed her teeth against his shoulder. "This is definitely not over-rated."

Han squirmed over onto his back, drawing the back of her head in and kissing her. In doing so he accidentally gouged his opposite hand's fingers into the base of her ribs. Leia promptly seized up with an "Ouch!"

He traced the small lump that had been the boneknitter's injection site. "You should see a medic when we get back to Endor," he said.

"It's fine," she reassured him, although, now that he mentioned it, it was feeling sorer than it had been two days ago. There was no telling if Tion's Em-Dee droid had been programmed to sterilize its equipment. "Do you have any antibiotic patches on board?" she asked, glancing sympathetically at his right eye. It was still bloodshot, although it looked a thousand times better than when she'd first seem him over the hypertransceiver on Bonadan.

"I think so."

"I'll put one on for now and get checked out… if you let them have a look at your eye."

To her amazement, or perhaps still in the throes of post-coital bliss, Han agreed without even thinking about it. She set her head on his chest and sighed, saving his warmth and her own sensual contentment to a part of her mind where she could hold on to it, relive it. He felt so good beneath her that she hated to get up, even if they were laying partway across the fresher hatchway and her feet were buried in a pile of damp towels.

Finally, he said, "If I don't get up I'm going to fall asleep like this."

"Uh-oh." Laughing, she used the edge of the counter to climb to her feet and searched for a cloth with which to wash.

Han yawned and tucked his arms behind his head, watching her with a pleased expression. "So what did all that mean?"

"What mean?" she countered, although she knew perfectly well what he meant.

"Don't make me guess," he threatened. "I'll start making my way down the list of things we haven't tried yet."

"Weren't you getting up." She scooted over his head and nabbed a clean-smelling shirt from the floor by the foot of the bunk. "Have you seen my robe?"

"Try the closet."

Leia peered into the closet. "No."

"The shelf over the bunk?"

Eventually, Leia found her robe crammed into the crack between the bunk and wall. She wandered into the med-bay, scrounged up a credit-sized antibiotic patch and slapped it onto her right thigh. Then, feeling thirsty and vaguely shaky-legged, she headed back into the main hold and poured herself a glass of water. Ration bar wrappers, tufts of hair, and disassembled hardware culled from the storage compartments and used for impromptu games to keep the youngest cubs occupied littered the decks, remnants of their three-day sleep over. She took a seat at the holo-table, which was blessedly free of the mess and covered only with a glossy travelogue.

"How many hours of vacuuming will it take to rid the ship of all this fur?" she wondered aloud when Han made his way aft.

"Usually I make Chewie do it and call it his punishment for shedding and saying the enviro-regulator messes with the seasonal hormones that would stop him from shedding." Han paused to tuck in his shirt. "I know he makes that crap up."

"No he doesn't. I've read that before. It's a fact."

Han grabbed a star-chart from a pocket of his in-flight chair and made a gesture that bordered on the obscene in Shyriiwook. "He doesn't know that I know that he's telling the truth and I'm gonna keep it that way."

Smiling in spite of herself, she said, "You're terrible."

"I'm Corellian," he replied.

"And it was your humility that attracted me to you first."

Han's measured gaze was amused. "I don't think so," he said.

She sipped her water carefully, shifting her gaze around the main hold. The computer interface component was nowhere insight, nor were the data crystals they'd taken from the Tionese Embassy. There was only Han, leaning against the bulkhead, concentrating on a star-chart and chewing the inside of his cheek pocket.

"Han?"

"Uh huh."

"Was Tyyla on them?"

He stopped reading and looked up. "Yes."

Leia set the water down. She clenched her hands into fists and pressed them hard against her thighs. "How did she die?"

"Does it matter?"

It mattered how someone died. Tyyla deserved to be remembered, to have the truth known about her by the only person who could, didn't she? "If you're going to say she would have died regardless when Ald-"

"No." Han shook his head grimly. "I wasn't going to say that."

"Tion said she hanged herself," Leia explained tiredly. "I only wanted to know if it were true."

"I don't know." Han folded the chart into neat squares, crossed the room and set it on the holo-table. "I couldn't watch that much of it. When we get back to Endor, I'll turn it over to Intelligence. If there's any justice out there, Tion will get what's coming to him."

_If_, Leia thought bitterly, a familiar cold and nauseating anger rising in her throat. There had to be justice, or she'd wasted her opportunity to mete it out days ago.

"Listen." Han rested his hands on the table-top and leaned forward, staring at her peculiarly. "There's something else I haven't told you."

Brow knit with curiosity, Leia asked, "Who else have you rescued?"

His expression didn't lighten. "Tion had a vidrecording of you in those datafiles."

The life drained out of her chest and cold ripples of shock crept up her spine, as though she was suddenly afraid and locked in her cell again. It simply rendered her insensible her to think of Han watching one second of it. The scan grid was alternately in the distant past and then the not so distant past – knowing that he'd suffered so wrenched at her insides. She couldn't imagine witnessing it firsthand. She managed to murmur, "Oh."

"There's that." He reached into her lap and touched a particularly tender bruise at the base of wrist. "And the fact that I refuse to turn it over with everything else. It's gone. I wiped it."

_I refuse_…

She digested that mutely, said "thank you," and studied the travelogue again, pretending to marvel at the moving images without reading a single solitary word. The travelogue was merely a resting place for her eyes whilst her brain rattled about in turmoil. In her mind's eye she saw Tion lying on the floor of his stateroom, cowering like the spineless monster that he was. She blinked him away, yearning to see sunshine waning through Endor's trees, as though she was a passenger on a luxury liner, changing the view with the unit controls. Not everyone who traveled first class wanted a view of the stars - many hated space travel and spent the entire trip pretending they were planet side. The image of Tion cowering inside the turbolift returned over and over again.

Han's intake of breath above her was sharp. "Sweetheart, I didn't watch it but-"

Stiffly, she motioned for him to stop.

"I shouldn't have left him alive," Han finished, tipping back and snapping his thumbnails against the lip of the table. "I don't know why I did."

_I wanted to kill him_, she thought determinedly. _I wanted to so badly_. Looking away was surprisingly easy to do. "I know this is the first time we've been alone since this all started and a lot has happened but I need for you not to be angry right now. It won't help anything."

"I'm not angry."

"Yes you are."

Han swore under his breath. "You didn't look so good when we first got you out of the Embassy."

Leia released a slow breath, avoiding his look of concern. She didn't want Tion there, invading their first moments alone together. "It would have been worse if you didn't escape when you did, yes. They came to inform him immediately."

"And if I'd been later?"

She flipped the travelogue over and eyed the images of frothy violet oceans and spectacular cliffs at sunset. In small print it said, _Ataria Island Resorts on Spira_. "What is this?"

"Nothing," he said, in a tone of voice that left Leia with the distinct impression it had once been something. He scratched at his damp head and stared at the deckplates, frowning. "You should get some sleep."

"What about you?"

"I need to check a few things out."

"I can wait for you."

"It might take a while."

And just like that, he was vanishing in the direction of the main tech station. He'd completed the pre-flight check before taking off from Uvena Prime, but she didn't doubt that there weren't dozens of system scans that should have been days ago. With twenty-three passengers, not including themselves, he'd had a difficult time accomplishing anything maintenance-related and eventually isolated himself in the cockpit. Still, Leia couldn't let him leave him like that, upset either because of Tion or maybe because a lifetime ago he'd thought maybe they could stop off on a quiet resort world and spend some time alone. She stood up. "Wait, damn it."

Han pivoted one foot, righting himself neatly with a palm against the hatchway. "Damn it what?"

"You're always walking off when I'm trying to talk to you?"

"I'm beat and I'm trying to get into bed with you sooner rather than later."

"Oh." It was true; the previous night on Uvena Prime had been far more eventful and exciting than actually restful. She'd slept in the corner of a crowded common room on a pallet with six Shistavanen jabbering non-stop only a meter away, while Han had spent most of the night pretending to drink glasses of a foul smelling fermented beverage. It was a wonder that he was still on his feet.

Apparently, her sudden speechlessness wasn't what he was expecting. Han crossed his arms and waited, almost apologetically. "So what was it you wanted to say?"

"Um… do you need any help?"

Han raised his brows in question.

"We're both exhausted. Two sets of hands are better than one."

"All right, all right, come with me. You remember how to plug in the diagnostic kit, right? You can run checks on life-support and the ion flux stabilizer. And log the power core levels."

An hour later, as Leia was just copying down final row of power core levels, Han arrived at the tech station with a datapad and hair that had dried sticking up in a dozen different places. He quickly scanned the reports and made a few notes in his datapad. Then he looked up and said, "So was that really what you wanted to talk about?"

"No."

"What then?"

"It's just that we've never spent this much together without a break," she explained, leaning into his body; he was a pillar of strength that would never yield, never break. "I have ways of dealing with things when I'm alone. I'm not used to having you, having anyone... in my personal space like this."

"Sweetheart, if you think all I've done is invade your personal space than I haven't been making enough of an impression on you."

"You have." Leia laughed, suddenly bitterly close to tears. "You know what I mean. It's not even me – it's Tyyla that's tearing me up inside. I didn't know, all these years…"

"And knowing what would have happened to you…" He didn't finish the sentence, but his left cheek muscle flinched and she knew he'd watched more of Tyyla's vid-recording than he was saying.

"Don't think about it." She tugged at his fingers. "Come to bed with me."

When they made their way there, Han undressed and promptly collapsed in a heap on his bunk.

Leia used the fresher and draped her robe across the conform lounge at the end of his bunk. _The Force sure seems to have a vested interest in keeping you alive, _she repeated quietly.Was it the most obvious and the strangest of all truths? Perhaps her brother had unleashed her Force powers inadvertently on the bridge in the Endor village? _Why?_ She wasn't like Luke. Confronting their father hadn't been part of her destiny.

She picked the possibilities apart in her mind and thought_; maybe you're not the only one the Force wants to keep alive_.

For the first time in a long while, the last princess of Alderaan felt profoundly clear-headed and filled with an almost irrational sense of relief. Since they'd escaped Jabba on Tatooine, she'd been terrified that every time Han turned a corner he was going to be taken away from her again. He wasn't the type of man who would endure worrying and over-protectiveness for long, or the type who could endure it. If she believed the Force was protecting him, maybe she could begin to relax. If she continued to have faith in her own instincts, they would be just fine.

Smiling to herself, she crawled into the bunk.

Han was so tired he didn't even complain about the shirt.


	11. Chapter 11

"_If you fire at them you will only make them stronger_."

"That's exactly what you heard?"

Leia nodded. "It makes no more sense to me now than it did then."

"But it's troubling you."

"Yes."

Luke Skywalker leaned against the trunk of a tree and dug the heel of his right boot into the mud. It was near nightfall and although the Alliance base was several kilometres from the Ewok village where he had first revealed himself to be her brother, Leia found that their discussion here again felt familiar. Lately, she found that every moment with him felt that way, as though everything that could happen already had and she was merely reliving it.

"What does Han think?"

"I haven't asked him yet."

"It could be that you're overlooking a simple explanation. Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it."

Leia released her breath and nodded. Having Luke tell her not to worry was almost as good as discovering the source of the odd message that had been plaguing her for days now.

"Then again, I haven't read the entire report yet."

She flinched inside. "You should read the report." Tyyla's fate, her suicide, among other things, was at the very end. It was still too raw to discuss out loud.

His piercing blue eyes went from boyish to ancient in the span of a heartbeat. "I was awfully worried about you."

"You had good cause to worry." She turned and leaned into the tree, cheek against the scratchy furrows and moss. On the way back, Han had suggested repeatedly that when they arrived back at Endor, she might tell her brother how suspect _her_ past was. And she wanted to explain to him her sense that somehow both her survival and Han's survival were all part of a greater plan, but she hadn't figured out how to begin. Now it tumbled from her lips like water through her fingers, the truth about Ambassador Tion and how Han had been the lure all along. About Tyyla. About how it had been Han's past heroism that had inadvertently saved them both. (Well, even if that past heroism hadn't exactly been on purpose, but Leia decided it wasn't lying if she left that part out.)

Luke listened intently. "It could very well be," he said when she finished. "Yoda used to say that the Force worked in mysterious ways. I don't know if the Force is reaching for you so much as perhaps you've subconsciously become more receptive to it."

"It's because of you," she replied. "This all began on Bespin when I knew we had to go back for you. It's as though… something was opened, a door, a gate."

At that, Luke pursed his lips and eyed the canopy overhead. "I almost went after you _this _time."

She wondered if he had any idea how close she'd come to reaching for him, how close she'd come to begging him for his help. She wondered if she knew the answer to that herself.

"Remember that pain inevitably becomes anger." He dropped his gaze, reached up and pressed a cool palm against her cheek. "Without fail."

Leia began feeling squirrelly, as though Luke had probed inside her head. Maybe he _had _read the entire report after all.

"I knew that if you truly needed me, you'd call to me, that I would feel it."

She nodded just as her brother's eyes shed the haunted look of an old man. He said, "Have you seen Chewbacca?"

It broke the spell. Leia almost bit her tongue, trying not to laugh, and crumpled at the waist against the tree trunk.

"I think they were a gift from the Ewoks." Luke swiped his hand across his mouth. "I didn't know what to say when first saw them - has Han seen him yet?"

The Wookiee was well on the road to recovery, but as it turned out, Chewbacca, whose fur was frequently unbrushed and flying wild, had a vain streak after all. It would be another few weeks until his leg-hair grew back and rather than go about bald-legged, in the interim he'd taking to wearing simply woven grass coverings. They shimmered and shook with every step and bits of grass trailed behind him everywhere he went. "He's seen them. He was in the med-centre for most of yesterday having tests run on his eye."

Luke shook his head. "Just so long as he doesn't start a new fashion wave."

A short time later, Leia was making her way through the general headquarters, through temporary grey-violet prefab halls that were packed full of droids, technicians and Alliance personnel, all painfully exposed under the long panels of lights. Han was just finishing up in the central briefing room when she found him. With his hair shorn close to his skull and wearing the crisply tailored uniform of a New Republic General, he looked more like a military man than a former Corellian mercenary. She waited outside the hatchway as the room emptied and swallowed a twinge of sadness. He'd come through his eye exams with flying colours, and in just a few hours, he was being shipped out for the next six rotations. She wouldn't see him for at least a month.

As he made his way through the door, she said, "General?"

Han looked her over with an air of gentlemanly politeness. "Your Highness."

"A word in private?"

"Of course."

Across the briefing room she could see Madine and two other Alliance heads break their conversation and watch them go. Luke had mentioned something about that, saying that he was pretty sure until last week no one in High Command had actually believed they were lovers. Leia wasn't sure what other evidence they'd needed after she'd taken leave to go to Tatooine. It was possible they simply hadn't wanted to see it. After the briefing regarding Ambassador Tion and the events on Bonadan, there was no longer any doubt in any one's minds.

Two hallways over, they slipped into a tiny darkened and thus far unused communications cubicle. Leia hit the pad and locked the door.

Han stooped down and kissed her. "There's news," he began.

"About Tion?"

"Madine just let me know; the Corporate Sector Authority arrested Tion at his Embassy just before dawn yesterday. The Hegemony has requested permission to try him on Jaminere." His face grew steely. "The Alderaanian Embassy is fighting the extradition – they want to try him on Bonadan."

"Justice is slow," she said. "But it _will_ come." Leia reached up and ran her fingers across his the fuzz of his hair. "I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"If I'd received the message from the Corporate Sector in the first place, would you have let me go?"

"Alone?" Han wrinkled his forehead and scratched at his high collar. "Not on your life."

Satisfied with his answer, she said, "So this works both ways."

"What does?"

"It's not important." She studied his face and imagined their bodies sprawled on a bed of sand, close enough to the surf that it lapped it their feet, drunk from the heat of a red sun. Maybe she didn't need the fantasy advertised in the travelogue, but it had a certain universal appeal that wasn't lost on her. And they needed the break together, or at least, the illusion of a break. If there were no major disasters in the interim, no suicidal Imperial star destroyers preparing a new attack against the fleet, she could probably manage two or three days.

"When you get back." Leia ignored his questioning gaze.

"Tell me before I go." Han smiled roguishly in that way that only he could. "Or else."

Smiling, she set her hand on the keypad. "I love you." The door swished open and she took a step forward into the din of the hallway and into the lights. Over her shoulder, she said, "And as it so happens I've never been to Spira before."


End file.
